New Horizons
by Verbus
Summary: With the recent destruction of his job and his inadvertent theft of a million credit star-ship. He doesn't have many options. An encounter with a malevolent entity with its own agenda casts him adrift in a familiar galaxy from long ago. Can he and a few outcasts make a difference to a destiny that was for millennia inevitable? Reviews are Welcome.
1. Prologue: When it all began

Authors Note 1 is at the bottom of the page.

* * *

Prologue: When it all began

* * *

Chaos.

Streaks of coloured fire raced across space, disappearing into flaring shields or gouging into durable metal. The small station had been taken by surprise by the attackers. A cloaked frigate destroyed the communications tower. Then a dozen assorted corvette's jumped from hyperspace and started barraging their target. A distraction for the panicking defenders to focus on, as the frigate moved closer. Soon smaller ships jetted out from its hull, their serrated jaws of the prows pointed at the station. Closing in on their prey like piranhas.

By the time the gunners noticed them it was too late. A few of the lighter cannons were quick enough to swivel around and knock a couple of the craft off course, they went soaring past the station into the void. But the rest had an easy shot at the unprotected structure.

As one they impacted the station, it's shielding, weakened by the lasers didn't stop them as they started unloading their cargo of suited-up mercenaries. Armed to the teeth, they spilled out into the compromised corridors. A few of the wilder ones coming out blasters firing, putting bolts into the freshly frozen corpses there, laughing at the sight of the wounds exploding as the iced blood vaporised. Angry orders were barked to get them back into line and they moved out, cutting crews front and centre as they approached the sealed blast door. The cutters lit up and sparks flew from the doors. Behind them their craft released sealant onto the edges of the holes, anchoring them to the superstructure. It would be no fun if their targets asphyxiated, especially if they had to cut through every damn door to get to them.

**RED ALERT…... RED ALERT.**

The warning blared throughout the station, klaxons and sirens screaming, strobes flashing; many people fell out of their bunks in shock. The unfortunate ones being landed on in turn by their colleagues. Dozing sentries jolted awake. Working techs dropped tools, banged heads and fell downstairs as the station began to shudder under repeated blasts. In the hangers, the few pilots raced to their old X-wings and made to take off. Only to get into loud arguments with the ground crews desperately trying to fuel and arm them in the shadow cast by the gunship whose profile dominated the hanger. It's dark and angular shape, menacing in the red glow showed its pedigree, a warship. Built for war by warriors. Onboard on the bridge, a solitary figure was busy working on a terminal with his back to the viewports that would reveal the unfolding chaos below.

**RED ALERT….RED ALERT.**

They cut through the first door, substandard material, as per instructions the breeching team backed off and the more, excitable members crowded to the front, eager to take the first kill, weapons up, twitchy trigger fingers trembling. A ruthless kick ensured the door fell in with a clatter. They poured in blasters opening up on the hapless Gonk droid, crewmen and a guard, the last of which flung himself round a corner in a blind panic, hands scrabbling at his belt for the radio. Blindly grasping the sphere he indented the button and began to scream into it, unaware of it's rapidly increasing bleeping or the bug-eyed Rodian that had him at blaster point before shooting him, chuckling at the carnage in the now dead man's torso as he moved forward. The rest of them came running around the corner.

Just in time for the rapid whine of the thermal detonator to reach a crescendo as it exploded, killing the front runners and blowing the legs off a Trandoshen while vaporising the guard's body. It checked the advance briefly, before they surged forward again, although, with many of the rasher dead, they were more cautious. The armoured figure at the back, stoped briefly to double-tap the roaring Trandoshen before catching up.

No loose ends.

The blast had gotten attention however, a squad of security came running along the corridor and charged around the corner.

Straight into the fire.

The front two were blown back into the wall, their limbs falling in a messy pile with the remains of the torso and guns, a third was sent spinning, arms hanging off by a bit of gristle. The fourth, seeing the now pink and brown wall turned and ran back, slamming his fist onto the door controls, before belatedly snapping a shot off at his counterparts on the opposite side.

Satisfied he took off like a scared rabbit reaching to his belt and grabbing his radio, yelling for anyone to hear that they've been boarded, calling for reinforcements. A discorded cacophony responded they'd seemingly been boarded everywhere.

* * *

Up in the backup communications room, a wrinkly old human spoke urgently into a holo-com one dark hand loading the blaster pistol as a tech frantically worked the backup communications console.

"Yes Sir Fen, the base is under assault, a light capital ship with escort corvettes. We have also been boarded in multiple locations, our resistance is disorganised and my men are falling back to prearranged hardpoints."

The beaked form of the old Talorti was visible in the com, his tone was carefully neutral, his orders precise.

"Very well. In the event of the potential capture of any sensitive technology, destroy it. The _Harbinger_ must not fall into the hands of this force, escape with it if possible, if not destroy it too. I wish you the best of luck in battle Commander Zet"

He responded with a nod of affirmation to the com as it shut off. He dropped it on the table before calling out to the sweating techie.

"You. Fired a blaster before?"

Seeing the shaky nod from the youngster he tossed the freshly loaded pistol to the tech, a dry amusement present on his features present as he hefted his heavy disruptor rifle.

"Good, stick with me, and maybe we'll make it out of this shit show alive."

Turning to the door he marched through it, gesturing to the two soldiers either side to fall in, they followed him, flanking the trembling tech. Their own rifles at the ready as they double-timed it to the labs, collecting a few more security personnel and armed crew along the way.

Once there they tossed detonators into the labs and blasted the computers. A bitter action gave it was nearly a year of work. Unfortunately, the explosions caught unwanted attention. A dozen mercenaries appeared behind a newly opened door and opened fire, bolts gouging into the unprotected flesh of crewmen, exiting their bodies and striking were dead before they hit the ground.

Their deaths were not in vain, Zet and his veterans swung and opened up on the attackers, the purple of disruptors arching as it struck them. More agonized screams rang out as those they struck disintegrated into ashy skeletons. By now the crew-members had responded from their meagre cover and poured fire into the survivors. Soon they were all cut down, for the cost of another four crew members.

With a signal he moved out, intent on reaching the pilot's quarters, they needed to get that ship out. Feeling a stronger rumble under his feet and hearing the increasing volume of combat, he knew it had to be soon. They weren't going to be able to hold.

* * *

She felt glee. Her attack had gone perfectly. They were completely unaware. Standing from her chair, blue fingers wrapped around one armrest as she devoured the readouts from her displays. Feeling a small surge of satisfaction as one by one the station's batteries were blasted to ruin. A stray shot from her ship's guns impacted the hanger doors, scorching them and her previous good mood. A glare and harsh command at the guilty subordinate resolved the issue, she desired the secrets of the station for herself. Her informant promised a very unique ship was being constructed here. She wanted it. And when she had it, the cannon fodder's role was at an end. She didn't want any loose ends, after all, they tended to trip one up at the most inopportune moments.

* * *

It was hard going. They had clearly broken through several checkpoints and were gunning down anything moving in their way. Smoking ruins of the station's droids and the charred corpses of its inhabitants littered the hallways. Checkpoints had blasted apart and overrun. Often they had to stop and gun down stray intruders.

He was a veteren though and soon he had reached the staircase below the living quarters assigned to their test pilots. Hearing maniacal laughter and the sounds of a light blaster as it impacted flesh.

Right before the armless body of a snarling Trandoshen broke the flimsy railing and landed at his feet. It disintegrated before anyone else could react, soot and strips of charred meat clinging to the thick skeleton. Making his way up the stairs carefully, trying to avoid the strewn bodies of various beings as he reached the entranceway.

"Hey, Drinker you in there?"

"Yep. Come to join the party commie? it's hella dead in here at the moment though."

Moving into the door frame, weapon held low he beheld a strange sight, Drinker was crouched in the en-suite shower cubicle, a line of dark bottles behind him. The entire front of his shirt was soaked in booze and he swayed slightly, beard plastered to the torn chequered shirt. There was nothing wrong with his aim though, as the steady hand on the long-barrelled pistol proved. A cursory glance showed the other two pilots slumped bodies over the remains of the poker game. Returning his attention to the now standing figure he decided to be direct.

"Get up Drinker, your taking her out on a flight."

"Good to see you too Commie, Good to see you too. You Gamoran headed muscle chewer."

He paused briefly as his drunken mind processing the information. Before a maniacal grin formed showing stained and chipped teeth.

"Sheeut. I get to fly that baby? Count me in, let's go."

They made their way to the main hanger stepping over fresh steaming corpses, a worryingly large number of which were familiar faces. The noise of battle, blasters and screams, grew louder as they approached the twisted remains of the hanger airlock. Through which they could see a fierce battle playing out. The invaders had burst through and were now advancing towards the _Harbingers_ bulk while the remaining personal fought back with whatever came to hand, blasters, plasma torches, even the cannon from one of the X-wings, hooked up as an impromptu turret. Zet could even see some of his men firing, their disruptors striking with every shot, atomising cover and foe alike. He and his men burst onto the scene, catching many of the attackers from this door off guard and killing them.

Drinker and the techs rushed forward with them firing at any movement as they slid into cover.

With that, the remaining attackers crouched down behind their cover awaiting reinforcements from the far door, the noise of cutting equipment clearly audible. Zet and Drinker made their way to the defenders, a nod of appreciation at how they were being marshalled by a grey whiskered ground sergeant. He quickly saluted, giving away his origins as an ex-imperial.

"Sir."

"At ease sergeant. Status?"

"Bad sir, command and the barracks have sealed themselves in. Fairly certain the crew quarters are overrun. Reactor and the Shields are in lockdown, they can't get in there with their current equipment."

"Very well. Drinker! Get onto that ship, and get it out of here."

The sodden pilot loped towards the _Harbingers_ open cargo bay, long legs eating up the distance, dodging the few shots that came his way, his head twisted over his shoulder. Of course he had the last word though.

"Love you too Commie, drinks are on me next time we meet. Have fun."

With that, he disappeared into the hold weaving between stacks of cargo crates. A flask at his lips. Zet looked at the unimpressed sergeant and turned around, the sight of the closed main doors catching his eye. A hand to the comm produced only static.

"Sergeant, where's the closest place to get those doors open?"

A gnarled hand was raised and pointed at the glass box perched midway up the wall.

"The control booth up there, sir. The closest way to it would be via the stairs that way."

"Very Well. Adjant, Maggah, Shek and Jones. With me"

Without a pause, he strides back the way he came, the four named forming a box around him, their own disruptors held at the ready. Casually shooting any corpses that twitched and the few remaining borders still alive in the hanger. They reached the corridor entrance and started advancing carefully down it to the stairs.

Everything was quiet, only the sounds of weaponry in the depths of the station and the last echoing tremble of the floor from the attack. Zet didn't wait, signalling to two to remain. He and the other two went up the stairs to the control room, finding the door buckled in its frame and low conversation trickling out. One of the men reached for a flash-bang, eager to avoid damaging the equipment further. Pulled the pin and counted and tossed it through the doorway.

A startled exclamation.

BANG!

Perfect timing.

He moved in low, feeling the blasters skim over his back and impact the wall behind him, coming out of his roll he shifted his disruptor up and fired at two of the three occupants in quick succession, one of his men catching the third as he entered. A low moan caught their attention. Tied to one of the chairs was the tortured naked torso of one of the engineers. Strips of flesh hanging off as blood drips from the empty eye sockets. One of his arms had even been gnawed on and half twisted off. Zet saw the guard who'd accompanied him in turn away in disgust and move back outside. Drawing his combat knife he approached the pitiful figure.

He made it quick.

With a quick glance outside he saw the blueish-purple hue of the engines intensifying as they warmed up, the ship lifted off from the cradle and angle to face the centre of the doors. Turning to the console he powered up the hanger shields and pulled the lever.

The doors were opening. Satisfied he turned and jogged out, troops falling in behind. Nothing needed to be said. Reaching the stairs their pace quickened when they heard the distinctive sound of disruptors firing. Jumping down a flight they reached the two remaining on guard there. Jones was firing down the corridor at a group of leathery Weequay, their skin no match for the weaponry. Adjant had his rifle hanging from one hand as he stiffly tossed a grenade behind the group before resuming firing, his shoulders scorched black. A close miss.

They start to sprint back to the hanger, hearing the renewed sound of combat from within. Maggah suddenly wheeled round and shot at a duo of enraged Trandoshans that had appeared behind them. Adjant did the same. The Trandoshens ducked for cover. Zet spun round and provided suppressive fire as Maggah and Adjant sprinted past them into the hanger. Soon following them. Just in time to see the _Harbinger_ Roar out of the hanger while the far door was kicked in, allowing a flood of attackers into the bay. Ducking behind cover he started shooting back. Trying to think of a way off the station.

* * *

Meanwhile, while all this is going on. On the _Harbingers_ bridge.

"Stupid code. Why Pyong can't leave a changelog I do not know. Or better yet stick to his own damn code. Inherent talent my ass. All he does is make my code more complicated"

The long-haired figure rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes, shifting the glasses up his forehead as he pondered the massive morass of code and where his 'colleague' had changed it. Muttering away he continued to work. Until the bridge doors opened to allow an eye-wateringly alcoholic mess of a man to stride in. Short buzzcut hair contrasting with a long beard as the dingy brown greatcoat flapped around him as he went straight to the pilot seat.

"Drinker?"

"What'd you expect to see a Twi'lek Stripper?"

He guffawed and shifted to the pilot console, hands dancing over the controls. Switching the ship on. Ignoring the unimpressed tech.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? My bloody job. This ship can't be captured."

The tech was increasingly confused.

"Captured?"

"Yeah. That lot down there aren't here for a drink that's for sure."

The tech started and ran to a security console pulling up the camera feeds. Stunned by the sight that awaits him.

"You done gawping? Then bloody well help me start her up then. Bah. It's like working with an imperial again. Once the programmings broke they just stand around like toy soldiers."

The tech winced but made started inputting commands into the console. Prepping the ship for takeoff. They worked quickly without sacrificing care. Till they felt a slight shudder as the ship lifted of off its cradle. Seeing the doors opening Drinker angled the nose for them. Shooting a look at the tech. He yelled out a gangly arm gesturing at a nearby console.

"Hey what are you waiting for, gun those bastards down."

Nodding the tech took command of one of the point lasers and opened up on the crowd of pirates spilling out from the entrance, mowing them down. Till the ship shuddered and pulled away soaring out of the hanger.

From the frying pan into the fire.

There were half a dozen corvettes around the hanger exit along with a frigate. All of which opened fire on the _Harbinger_ as it zipped past, careening around the frigates bulk. Most of the shots went wide, striking the other corvettes. The _Harbingers_ own armament activated as well, lasers racing into the corvettes while a spread of proton Torpedoes surged towards the frigate. Howling with laughter Drinker swerved them round again. Nearly ramming another corvette. He flicked open a channel.

"Hey Commie you slowpoke, you gonna join the party? I promise it's a spicy meatball out here. You don't want to miss it, it'll kill you if you don't."

"What the hell are you doing! This is suicide."

Drinker just laughed again at the panic in the techs tone.

"Never you mind, just keep on working them systems. Commie got me out, I'm returning the favour. Not to mention if we each owe each other around that's two rounds of drinks, and two rounds are better than one."

The tech's shoulders slumped, acknowledging the futility of arguing with a professional drunk. One statement slipped past his lips, however.

"You're insane."

* * *

As the ship soared over her bridge. She couldn't believe her luck, the ship was Fenn's newest personal ship. Such a prize. She would prove herself once again, and get a shiny new command ship, standard Crusaders were prizes, never mind one as clearly modified like this. And in the middle of a refit too, a golden opportunity.

"All ships focus fire on the _Harbinger_, but I want it intact. Don't let it escape."

"Yes Sir."

She fixed a glare on the gunner from earlier.

"And you. Do not make that mistake again, or you'll be strapped to the Turbolaser next time it fires."

Seeing the panicky nod she proceeded to ignore him. Too intent on her prize dancing around, just at the edge of her fingertips.

Soon she would have it.

Soon.

* * *

Zet heard Drinkers exuberant voice over the cons and smiled, that mad bastard would piss off a n whole fleet of with no crew on an experimental warship. Yelling over the tumult of battle he gestured for his men to pull back to the secondary hanger, falling back in stages as they gunned down more opposition, the ground crew manning the X-wing cannon made a flying leap as a rocket struck it, the ammo's explosion peppered his back with shrapnel and blasting him into a security man. Securing him with one hand in a fireman's' carry they continued to fall back in good order, to Zet's approval.

Although their pace was only increased by the dying screams of the defenders in the barracks echoing over the stations comms and the drop-ships depositing even more soldiers into the hanger.

Once everyone was through Zet shot out the controls to the hanger, prompting the emergency fail-safe to kick in and slam the doors down, separating them from their pursuers. There were some fifty people in the hanger, and more security engaged in a fire-fight at the other entrance. Grimacing he gestured to his soldiers to load people up onto the transport. They had a limited time window to do this in.

With everyone loaded he got through to the command deck, it was about to be breached. Seeing no hope the duty officer acceded to Zet's order and opened the hanger bay doors.

Soon the drop-ships pulled out of the hanger, immediately jumping to hyperspace bound on an unknown vector. Their escape was unnoticed by the attacking ships. So intent was they on the _Harbinger_.

* * *

"That's it. They've gone. Let's leave." he was shouting at Drinker now, panic clear. He couldn't fathom how they hadn't been killed already.

"Right you are Ed Davies. Say do you give 'Ed?"

Howling with laughter once more at the techs expense as they jumped into hyperspace leaving behind their pursuers to eat stardust.

* * *

"NOOO! YOU FOOLS! How could you let them escape?! Get half those incompetent fools to chase them down. The rest of you form up on the station. Kill all on-board except the technicians. I will not leave here empty-handed."

"But Sir..."

The unfortunate crewman was lifted out of his seat by his neck to come face to face with the glaring red eyes of his commander."

"What?"

"The st-tation itsss..."

* * *

Onboard the station in the command room, the duty officers finished inputting the code before joining her fellows at the barricade.

"Everyone. A pleasure knowing you."

With that, he drew her own pistol and aimed at the nearly breached doors. Awaiting her death with dignity, and determined to go down fighting. Just as the doors kicked in he feels a shudder from beneath her feet.

She staggers and fires, catching the patchy Wookie through the eye, the great creature going down like a felled tree squishing a scarred Rodian. Then everything flared white.

* * *

"AAAGGGHHH!"

She's enraged by the sight, the explosion of the station's reactor destroyed any hope of useful salvage or prisoners, what's more two of her corvettes were gutted by the blast and sent reeling. Her own ships shields had held. Just. Tossing the limp necked crewman back into his station, she started to scream orders at the terrified bridge crew, she was going to have the _Harbinger._ It was a ship in a class of its own and she would have it. By her aunt, she would have it.

* * *

**Authors Note 1:**

First of all, thank you for reading this chapter and I hope you have enjoyed it. This is the first time I've written anything of any real length.

The story is set in the Star Wars Universe sometime after the original trilogy, (4,5,6) prior to going back over half a century to before the Clone wars. While I will attempt to be as canonical as possible regarding characters/locations/rules/etc I will be altering multiple events which will change the timeline significantly.

Regarding the source material. The Disney cannon does not exist for the purpose of this story, much of what I'm using is from the 'Extended Universe' Legends.

So as for the story, it will contain descriptions of violence, wounds and torture. Similar to the examples this chapter. However I highly doubt I will be writing explicit and drawn out torture/death's.

As for sexual themes, they will likely be limited to teasing and nudity, although there will be no explicit sex scenes contained in this story. The most there could be would be the insinuation of it occurring before the scene cuts, or comments on it afterwards.

Having said that I will be attempting to show the a diversity of cultures in the galaxy so...

DISCLAIMER: Opinions and statements made in this story are not intended as endorsements to any person, organisation or thing. Nor are they necessarily supported by the Author in any form. Not that I believe that anyone would assume that, but it's internet.

I believe that's everything, please let me know if I have forgotten to cover anything else here, and have a good day.


	2. Chapter 1: The end of one life

Chapter 1: The end of one life

* * *

The quiet stillness of space was disturbed by the sight of the rapidly decelerating ship, as it ploughed through a sinuous snaking stream of gas. The dimming light of its engines was reflected by the glinting of a million colours within the slowly moving cloud. Suddenly the beauty was disturbed by a harsh bluish-white flare as the ship's shields failed. On the bridge, the furious tone of the pilots enraged cursing is clearly audible.

"What do you feckin' mean there are no shields, you jumped up grease monkey?! This bloody ships' got shields, damn fine ones, the best money can steal! What ya do? Lose them?"

Drinker continues in this vein for some time as his own veins bulge ever more prominently. All while the target of his ire hunched over his own terminal, fingers dancing over the keys, muscles stiff as he weathers the storm of abuse and spittle. His attempt to remain professional and calm was laudable if a bit spoilt by the sight of his hands and feet trembling like leaves in the wind.

"I don't know..."

"I don't give a Hutt's backside what you don't know you useless pile of Rancor crap!" Fix them!"

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour Ed turned back to his console, the diagnostics already running. Finding little of use in the current results he flicked over to start a sensor sweep. Maybe some of the others had followed them and could rescue him? Switching back to the diagnostics he read through them. Forehead creasing in a heavy frown, one finger absently pushing glasses back to the top of his nose. Deciding on the course of action he started to re-route the power and bring the deflectors back on-line, shortly followed by the main shield generators slowly powering up. The relative silence was broken by the sound of a bottle being unscrewed and the long glugs of swallowing. It stopped at a satisfied grunt, and Drinker was back to business. His temper as healthy as ever.

"Where're my damn shields you overgrown Jawa?"

"They're up and running now. Our hyperspace jump overloaded some unprotected conduits so I've had to re-route through the auxiliaries. Which means that..."

"Eh bout feckin' time. If you'd been in my old squadron you'd have been reduced to scrubbing the hanger floor for this!"

Unfortunately, as by this point the flare of the shields as they powered up seemed to have drawn some attention, corvettes started dropping out of hyperspace alongside them, guns trained on them. The curses from Drinker were redoubled as he started to power the engines up again. Only to be cut short by an Audio transmission.

"Unidentified Intruder. This is Captain Hald of _Gladiator, _you have trespassed into Imperial Space. Surrender or be Destroyed. Your Compliance is appreciated."

Drinker was for a change gob-smacked. But only for a second, the angry veins now positively throbbing in his reddening face.

"Fek you, you pompous overbearing has-beens!"

With a bang of his fist, he slams off the comm and the insulted noises from the imperial captain. A quick twist of the hand and the ship leapt forward like a horse at the starting gate.

"Imperial Remnants. Imperial Remnants? Imperial Remnants! Where the feck are we that we bump into them lot. What the feck were those damm co-ordinates, you retarded love child of a Gungan and an Ewok?!

"I, I don't know. We did a blind jump."

"A blind jump?! Were you too busy wetting yourself and screaming to set up the calculations? How the feck are we going to go back, I ain't tweaking that bitch's nose a second time, by going back to the station."

Whilst this was going on their ship was speeding ever faster away, but not without casualties the initial barrage from the imperial gunners was delayed. Instead of the bridge it ripped into the sides, overwhelming the still-charging shields, and ploughing through the plating in many places. Their pursuers were also speeding after them. Turrets hurling bolts at them. Suddenly though, the _Harbingers _engines started to stutter and die down again. Drinker realised this as soon as it happened and was determined to get them working. Imperials never served drinks to prisoners after all, or at least not good ones.

"You useless stain on sapience! Get my feckin' engines running again, or force help me, I'll kill you before that grandpas' army can!"

His fingers darting over the controls. Ed's gaze squinted as he tried line after line, desperately re-routing power to the engines using any conduits he could, weapons, shields, life-support.

"I've got it. But we've lost transmission capacity and the reactor's output is decreasing. Shields are at 50%, the torpedo launchers and half the cannons are offline. Also, the hyper-drive is not responding. But on the plus side, I know where we are."

Drinker's voice was so layered with sarcasm they could have used it as armour plating, with all the ability of an onion to make you cry.

"Oh brill-i-ant. Thank you. We've got imperials on our tails, no guns, feck all shields. The hyper-drive went walkies and the reactor's bleeding out. But at least we know where we are eh? Brilliant."

"It's a region of space known as the Maw."

Drinkers face, animated and reddened, fell. It went pale, even the formally throbbing veins seemed subdued, dark chanels where raging rivers had flowed a few seconds before.

"Fekk that. Now I wish I was flying blind."

* * *

Onboard the lead pursuer Captain Hald smiled grimly. His short regulation cut white hair tucked under a lovingly maintained hat. Around him, his veteran crew, each with at least thirty years of service operated their assaigned stations with peak efficiency.

"Sir. The vessel is attempting to flee, but has seemingly suffered damage to its propulsion systems. We will overhaul it shortly. Orders?

"It appears to be an advanced version of the _Crusader_ Class. Valuable but dangerous. Destroy it."

"Yes Sir."

While the discussion had been ensuring however it was noticed that the vessel had stopped firing on them entirely, even as its engines dimmed. There was a slight hesitancy on the bridge, brought on by years of experience. Their fleet slowed slightly, wary of a potential trap.

What they saw was unexpected, the flare of the engines as it bolted like a a panicked racer. Running headlong into the cluster, alongside the twisting streams of coloured gas, seemingly inexorably drawn alongside it into the gaping maws.

The chase was on.

* * *

But it was a fools chase, their edge slowly being worn away as the reactor's power decreased. Still they were well into the cluster by now. If Ed could look out the viewport, the beautiful sights of the nebula would of been all that he could see.

A serene beautiful viesta.

Or it would be were it not for the sight of laser fire arching past them, a vivid reminder of the danger they were in, and Drinker's cursing. He didn't know what to do. There was seemingly no way of beating them in a straight-out fight, most of the weaponry had already been destroyed or turned off to conserve power. The shields were steadily losing strength as more of the limited power was transferred to the straining engines and the rearward deflectors. Still, the patrol cruisers were not gaining on them, they could hide maybe even get…

"FECKING FORCE!"

Startled Ed's head shot up, before his jaw dropped and his face went white behind its beard. Right ahead of them was the triangular prow of a star destroyer, a Victory class. Its Turbo-lasers rotated, tracking them, and fired. Even with drinker's maniacal piloting the shots ripped through the weakened shields and ploughed into the ship, parts of the hull were ripped away, a whole section of the cargo bay was sliced off and sent tumbling to the side. Warnings flashed all over his board, the combat systems hadn't been affected much, but over 85% of the ship was venting into space. With a panicked slam of the hand, he ordered all the bulkheads to be sealed, the faint whistle of air plucking his taut nerves with expert fingers. They soon shoot past the capital ship and continue on hurtling ever deeper into the nest of gaping hungry mouths. Relentlessly pursued by the corvettes, drawing ever closer.

By seeming chance the loose section of the cargo hold smashed into one cruisers hull, denting it and sending it into another, they met and brief sparks could be seen as they collided. Sufficiently damaged, they ceased their pursuit, turning back to the larger ship. The rest hurtled on. Chasing their fleeing prey. A few incautious ones were grasped by the tendrils and inexorably sucked into the waiting maws, their fate certain, more turned back. There was a bare half dozen left chasing now. Deeper and deeper into the unmapped depths of the abyss. Where even the might of the empire at its prime had feared to tread. They were invigorated by the sight of their fleeing prey flagging, the once steady glow of its engines pulsing dimmer and dimmer.

On the bridge, Drinker was inexplicably amused, his previous rage gone, transmuted into laughter, he was howling. Ed would have highly preferred if he was still raging, the laughter was of a man truly demented.

"Ah, Ed this is glorious, a short life but a merry one, and this is a merry dance indeed, and with the most nimble lady at the party. Hah hah."

Suddenly he turned his attention to the terminal in front of him. A truly demented grin split his face.

"Oh no you don't, you mad bastard."

With that he did something that made Ed feel as if his stomach was at the end of a spring as the _Harbinger_ was swung round, a profound shock running through it, nearly knocking him to the floor.

* * *

An eager captain determined to prove his worth, overloaded his engines to pull up alongside the Crusader class. Training all turrets for a devastating burst of fire, that would rip the _Harbinger_ from prow to stern. Seeing this Drinker threw it around its axis. The heavy engine section slamming into the lighter tormentor and booting it away, its own thrusters damaged and stuttering, another stopped to render it assistance. The few remaining pursuers were perplexed to see it continue its spinning however. Captain Hald ordered them to slow, wary of another trick.

* * *

While their pursuer hadn't destroyed the ship, a few premature shots and the collision itself had wreaked havoc with the power conduits. Consoles across the bridge sparked, exploded or burst into flame. Ed yelped and jerked away clutching his hand to his chest, a livid red burn stretching under the sleeve. Hissing in pain as he clutched the limb, seeing his vision flicker, twisted shadows dancing across his vision.

Drinker screamed.

Shocked Ed turned to him, it wasn't his vision flickering, it was the light. Drinker was burning, from waist to head he was aflame, the alcohol soaked into his beard and clothing providing ample fuel, the smoking ruin of his console an easily guessed perpetrator.

Horrified, he could only watch the spasmodic twitches of Drinker's body as electric currents ran through it. Jerking his limbs obscenely before he slamed into the console. The flames were soon damped by the lack of fuel and the fire suppression system that had kicked in. Coating him in white powder, concealing most of the damage. The sensation of more strikes on the ships shields and the shuddering of the deck knocked Ed from his stupor and nearlyfrom his feet.

Shaken from his horrified stupor he took command of the ship's piloting functions, hoping the reactor would not go critical by itself. Jaw set, he began trying to pilot an escape. Using every hare-brained trick he could think of, to shake them off. Diverting all power to engines and shields. Not even life support was running now.

* * *

The_ Harbinger_ was holding its lead against its pursuers. But only just. Their engines straining the corvettes just kept pace. Only the near-lethal flying of their prey's pilot, skimming the horizons of each gaping maw, relying on superior speed to see it through, widened the gap. His pursuers would not dare the same maddened manoeuvres after their losses.

However, it could not outrun the furious hail directed at it, the fading shimmer of the shields still absorbing the deadly coloured lances intent on further rupturing the hull. Missiles, those that were not swallowed indiscriminately by the mouths, impacted the groaning hull, venting more gas into space as the plating was buckled and torn, the entire vessel shuddering silently with each impact.

Its own once-formidable weapons hung limply in their battered frames, damaged barrels sunk on themselves like boneless corpses, wildly swung in their mountings like the final desperate dance of men swung from the rope. A few had the energy to attack the chasing pack, desultory shots, shrugged off as if they were nothing by the pursuing vessels. The only edge the panicked pilot had was his own skills and desperation, mostly desperation, tricking his eager pursuers too deep into the hungry maws' reach for them to ever escape. Unfortunately, the rest learnt and continued to chase their flagging prey, confident in their victory over the crippled ship and the reward it would bring them and unwilling to bring shame upon themselves by failing.

* * *

The bridge was a cacophony of chaos. A few flickering lights barely lit the scene a bloody red as siren's screeched their alarms to the single solitary remaining figure at the main terminal, the stench of melting electronics burning his nose as his off-hand fingers skittered over the smooth terminal, a scorched maimed hand desperately attempting to hold him against the terminal as the once-mighty vessel bucked like a wounded animal under its unceasing torment. A creased forehead concealed the normally prominent mono-brow as dark-brown eyes squinted over square rimmed spectacles at the readouts displayed. A curse, startling in its quietness was scarcely heard as one alert dominated the others on the crowded monitor its stark bold font a lurid glaring white against the black background.

** CRITICAL: REACTOR OVERLOAD IMMINENT**

A resigned sigh and small twitch as his shoulders collapsed was his only visible response to his succinctly worded doom. Raising a suddenly heavy and leaden head, despairing at his cruel choices; being spaced or blown up, to freeze or burn, suffer ice or fire. A hand reflexively grasped for his missing blaster, an errant thought that at least he wouldn't be the one to clean up the mess as his fingers grasped on air. A hiss of pain escaped as he knocked his burnt hand against the terminal, head shooting up sharply in response. A desperate unfocused gaze travelling out past the webbed cracks in the window.

There a dark glimmer caught the corner of one bloodshot eye. His eyes sharpened, there was something there an asteroid maybe, his wounded body and exhausted mind told him to hide. He could not flee any longer, and with a chance of life, he would not wait calmly for death. Reinvigorated with one last shot of adrenaline he manipulated the controls directing his vessel towards it, nothing could be worse than what lay behind, with the last spluttering reserves of his forlorn hope he nursed the crippled corvette behind the planetoid after one last manoeuvre. Sensors indicating the pursuing vessels disappear behind its volume.

As the ship stuttered behind the seeming planetoid he realised it was no trapped asteroid. It was too smooth, too geometric, and too uniform.

A huge darkened sphere devoid of features. With a diameter a third again as long as his ship simply hung there, as if suspended by a divinity. There were no lights. No movement. No irregularity.

With the end of the chase came the flight of the short-lived adrenalin and with it his hard-fought battle for consciousness was lost. As his exhausted body slumped over the terminal dead to the world, uncaring of the potential risk it held and that the nest of gaping maws he has fled to were by no means the worst this region had, if he had, he might have preferred somewhere more hospitable and safer, like dark Korriban or fiery Mustafar. Not Tatooine though, never that infernal sand-trap ever again. One visit coinciding with an enraged Darth was enough to warn him to keep well away from that place. Jawa deals or no Jawa deals.

With him slipping away into unconsciousness the bridge fell into an eerie stillness, the sparking equipment died down, the panicked lights frantic flashing slowed to a slow oscillation. The swirling trails of smoke hung limply in the warm still air.

A lone drone of the alarm the only audible noise, as he fell even further into unconsciousness.

* * *

It seemed an eternity before he awoke, shoving himself up with both hands as he took in the uniform vista around him.

Grey.

That's all he could see, as far as his eye could see, billowing grey cloud all around. The only difference anywhere was the mottled dark stone he stood upon. A solid path leading into the fog, the ending of which was by his feet.

A light gust disturbed the clouds bringing the quick sounds of frantic conversation to his ears, incomprehensible in their passing brevity a sense of malevolent madness dispersing in their wake. Feeling the urge to escape the spine-chilling noise he began to follow the darkened path an attempt to distract himself with the strange white glowing veins failing before it started. The affectation of a nonchalant stroll, soon cast aside.

A quick lope around the ascending curve, a white-knuckled hand grasping his weapon's comforting butt, a comforting familiarity about it. Circle after circle ever climbing, becoming smaller the higher he went up the spiral. The discordant symphony at his heels was subsumed by the increasingly clear rich notes of a sad tune, the smooth piano notes seemingly swelling as he got closer and closer.

Finally he reached the apex, a white arch, twice his height. The heavy door left ajar from which the melody danced outwards. A wary glance to the side showed nothing, there was only the arch, alone in the clouds, the path leading under it. Laying a hand on the door, he was almost surprised how real it felt, the strength and the comforting solidness of the aged wood. Reassured he allowed his hand to slide down to the large wrought handle, feeling the chill in the metal. With a gentle pull the well-balanced door pivots on silent hinges and he slips inside. Unsure of what was next in this strange place.

The first sight that greets him is that of a white wall, an actual solid white wall meeting another in a corner. Following it around his gaze lands on the lone occupant of the room. A robed and hooded woman sitting on an ornate silver chair. Her oversized brown robe had faded to a murky grey, with barely distinguishable patterns woven into it's cloth. Sleeves that came to her wrists and a skirt that pooled on the floor. Leaving only her hands free. Hands coarsened with age and work, the thin wrists bound by a glittering chain to the dazzling chair.

The patterns of which were intricate and chaotic, almost sickeningly so, eyesight blurring as his attention was captured. A slight movement of her robes broke the spell, his sight travelling to her covered head.

Resting on her chest, it was impossible to see anything, her features hidden. All but wisps of her bleached hair which drifted in an arrhythmic breeze as they lay on her chest. A single step further into the room and she spoke. Her voice, was comforting yet tired, deathly so. Speaking of uncountable age and its resultantly weighty experience.

"Greetings Traveller, fear not for your pursuers have ceased their attempt. Even now they have returned to their patrol, citing you as lost to one of the many mouths, your thanks are unneeded. However I would ask of you a service."

She paused as if in thought the strands of hair dancing erratically. The heavy material shrouding her head barely shifting, giving no other indication that she was alive.

"But first I will tell you how I came to be here. Such as you understand the responsibility you would undertake. I am Mab, last of the Ones. My family were old and powerful, entire star systems were created by them, the energy of the universe danced to their call. My husband, proud and wise. My son, bold and impetuous. My daughter kind and patient. And me their mother, the one who kept us together. But it was not to be. Time was not kind to us."

She again hesitated, a twitch of a wrist shaking the chain. Giving off a musical chime against the chair that echoed into the air.

"At first my children would never cease to fight between themselves. Their father could not stop them, but I could. I healed the rifts between my family, and we had happiness. However, it could not last. I was not immortal and age advanced upon me. As I weakened my children again began to fight each other. In my desperation, I fell into temptation.

I bathed in the Pool of Knowledge and drank from the Font of Power. As promised it gave me immortality but at a great cost. I was imprisoned here and my beloved family fled from me. Imprisoned here for eternity by a terrible enemy, an enemy that even now gains power with the death of my family and my own fading"

She fell silent, her shoulders shuddering as drops fell between her knees, to land on the glittering floor at her feet, the tiny crystals dissolving in the splashing tears. The music slowing and growing more melancholy. While just at the edge of hearing the voices taunted the ears as the faded smell of old flowers lingered in the still air. He stood quietly, body tense as he ventured a cautious question.

"You wish to be freed from here then?"

The dripping tears did not cease as she shook her head.

"It is too late for me, I have nothing to live for, for my family was my life. My request is that you stop her escape. She has taken everything of value from me, my existence is that of a dusty trophy to be discarded for new victories. My request is that she falls, and remains trapped here till the end of the existence itself."

He looked thoughtful for a time and spoke slowly, hesitantly, picking his words with great care.

"While I have some inkling of your pain, how am I meant to defeat her, my ship is a ruin and..."

Her wrist twitched even as she cut across him scorn in her voice.

"You yourself are not a fighter. Anyone can see that. She is not defeated by conflict, she thrives on it. She is all-powerful, Chaos Incarnate."

Strange energy seemed to overcome Mab at these words, but left just as quickly. Her body slumping back in the chair.

"To beat her you would have to bring stability to the galaxy, an impossible feat for one such as you, her prison is already failing, nothing can stop that, and nothing will."

Pausing as if expecting an interruption, she continued with the merest trace of motherly approval in her voice.

"To stop her you need to find my family and bring them here. Along with allowing the force to flow in the galaxy once more."

His quiet voice spoke in an level manner, a questioning look clear, although he was careful to not appear in any way mocking.

"You said they are dead, which means one of three things; resurrection, time travel or they are hiding." A sense of satisfaction emanated from the chair's occupant at his deductions. A mild clearing of the throat, before she spoke again.

"Humph. There is some hope for you then. They are dead, not even the force can revive them. Although you are correct in one aspect, time-travel. Your ship can attain it here."

Ignoring his startled exclamation, she continued.

"There is a gravitational anomaly here, two singularities, black holes, that orbit each other. A dual orbit with them both will allow you to accelerate beyond any hyper drive's capabilities. Then by breaking free, you will be able to travel backwards in time."

The pause before he responded was telling before he sighed.

"You have saved my ship and my life, it would be remiss of me to not agree, however will the ship handle it though, and it is a ruin?"

Her lack of response, as well as the air of reproof, is all the answer he receives, its intensity unsettling him, making him aware of the lack of alternatives. He made to thank her for rescuing him, suddenly remembering that he had yet to do so properly. When she spoke again,

"Yes, however, there is a further request I have to make of you.

"What would that be, Lady Mab?"

"There is another here, trapped, frozen and alone. She fell like I. I ask that in lieu of rescuing me, you rescue her, and have her accompany you..."

The pause this time was longer, not even a twitch to disturb the still tableau. He stood there pondering on the added condition.

"Who would this individual be?"

"A former Jedi Knight in the last days of their Order, one whose disagreements with the order led to her imprisonment and subsequent exile here."

He feels it, the urge to help, being nudged to aid this prisoner, but force users are trouble. Lord Vader had been ample evidence enough of that. His misgivings are merely that thought, when weighed against the request. Displeasing her could be painful. If he angered her, there was no guarantee he could leave. Mab anticipated his response, cutting him off in a tone brooking no thought of him disagreeing.

"Good, she will have joined you on the bridge of your vessel when you return. You have tarried here too long, you should return and leave this place before she acts against you. I bid you do your task well, and remember you can't look back."

"Goodbye Lady Mab."

With that, he turned and left the room, unaware that as he did, her head rose and glittering silver eyes tracked his movements as he descended. His own gazed resolutely forward as he once again began to run down the spiral as the darkening mist rose to greet him. Lapping around his ankles. The music falling quiet once again as the voices grew louder and louder.

The darkness deepened as he descended. Soon he could barely see the path in front of him. All of a sudden his foot plunged into the void and his own momentum carried him off the edge of the path. A flailing arm scraped against the cliff as he fell uttering a startled scream muffled by the dense fog. The triumphant crescendo of that deranged choir gleefully howled as dark clouds brushed past him and he fell further and further, faster and faster.

* * *

Bump. And landed. Confused messages inundated his startled brain, the blaring alarm of the sirens, the acrid stench of burnt electronics, the ruddy red of the emergency lighting, his own harsh breathing. The taste of iron on his tongue. The pain of his burned hand. He felt the shudder of the ship as it picked up speed. He tried to lever himself up, making nothing of what he was using to do so, a covered globe, firm with a hint of softness. Gripping it he pushed himself up, eyes only for the terminal, muting the alarms. He breathed a huge sigh of relief at the silence. until he heard a low growling nearby. Slowly, seemingly ever so slowly with his head tilting and eyes dropped, he saw the now kneeling form of a hooded person. Feeling a sickening sensation he further dropped his head, realising there were no globes on the floor by him, and that a person was growling at him. Cloudy eyes fixed unerringly on him as they rose, smooth hands stretched out towards him. The woman glared at him, eyes glowing with sickly yellow rage. She rose to her full height, to reach just under his chin. He had time for only one thought before she lunged for him, sparks of electricity dancing between her pale curled fingers.

She was the Jedi.

And he'd just groped her ass.

DRAT!

He reeled back from the first lunge, arms up to defend his face reflexifly. A distracting thought floated across his mind. Maybe he would have been better off on Tatooine, it's not like you could grope a Hutt by accident after all.

Feeling another terminal behind him he dodged around it eyes transfixed on the sight of various debris rising into the air at the command of the woman, before they were sent hurtling at him, most of them struck at the terminal. One whipped past and opened up a gash on his forehead, a ghastly grin.

He attempted to sneak to the side, only for her to face him and hurl yet more debris, the floor seemingly shuddering as she ripped at everything to hurl at him. Leaping from behind another terminal as it was demolished he tripped and fell into the Fire Control pit, narrowly missed by the cloud as it hurtles overhead, dust raining down on his back. Keeping himself flat, he felt the impacts on the floor above and the wall ahead. Crawling through to the secondary seat he scrambled up the stairwell, glad of the sheet rail, as it noticeably dented, before with a tortured scream it was ripped out, and swung at him like a scythe.

The entire ship was shuddering now and the sight of the front window filled him with dread as the cracks started spider webbing across, feeling himself grabbed and thrown as if by a giant's hand his head impacted another terminal, glasses cracked in two, falling from his face onto the screen he was smooshed against.

The bright red '...OWER OVE…' not registering for him as he rolled off, just as a bar was driven through it, killing the display in a flurry of sparks and an electronic whine, drilling through his ears. His tumble threw him into the force user, knocking her down on top of him. Her sparking hands struck him numbing wherever they hit. She soon reached for his neck and wrapped one slender hand around it, choking him.

He screamed hoarsely as his entire head lit up with electricity, simultaneously burning and freezing with thousands of tiny needles stabbing. Blindly he kicked out, by chance at the same time his ship bucked throwing them both against the rear bulkhead, heads smashing against it with a sickening crack as they both dropped bonelessly to the war-torn deck.

It was almost a shame that they were unconscious as the fracturing window lit up with a fantastical indescribable colour, not red, orange, or yellow. Not green. Not blue, indigo or violet. A colour that was all of them and none of them at the same time.

The _Harbinger_ screamed around its orbit, flickers of flame trailing in its wake as it travelled, faster and faster. The hyper-drive activated, and it went faster still, a blur whizzing around the paired black holes. Quicker and quicker. Edging closer and closer to escaping their gravity, time itself slowing in comparison to it. Then it happened, it was flung out of orbit, it's sheer speed carrying it out as it faded from reality, the only remnants of its existence a fading trail of sparkling light and a single patrolling Imperial corvette as it turned and fled, a haze covering it, masking its features.

* * *

She smiled. Not a nice smile, but one of madness, of obsession and rage. Seated in her silver throne, an air of immense power around her. Wispy spirits whirled around her in the darkness as she began to laugh. Oh, how she laughed, tears of joy glittering in her silver eyes, with glee, relief and madness. She could feel it. The Flow of Time. She could feel its shudders as it was wrenched and changed. The power rushing through her, the knowledge that they could not seal her again.

She was Chaos Incarnate.

She was the Beloved Queen of the Stars.

She was Abeloth.

She would be Free.


	3. Chapter 2: The Beginning of the Next

Author's Note 2 is at the bottom of the page

* * *

Chapter 2: The Beginning of the Next

Pain. That's all she felt as she woke, sheer blinding pain. Her head rang like a bell and her entire body felt like one giant bruise, crisscrossed with lines of fire and ice. Opening her aching eyes was agonizing, as she felt the after-effects of overextending her force abilities. It was worse than when she was a youngling. Her vision blurry as she attempted to focus on the figure of the other person she could hear. Her fingers noting she was resting on some sort of heavy garment. The memory of her desperate attempt to defend herself from her tormentor swam to the front of her dazed mind as she attempted to push herself upwards. Head turned and facing the moving off-pink patch of a torso, propping herself up, she realised that they'd heard her, turned and was making their way towards her, a steel cylinder glinting in one hand. She panicked and attempted to force push him away from her. She felt further agony course through her body as she tried to channel the force and slumped back down, a quiet mewl of pain slipping past her bloodless lips. Through slitted eyes she saw the figure stagger slightly before pausing and folding its legs under itself, arms by its side, dropping the cylinder.

* * *

Error! Error! Error! That's all that terminal would provide. He grunted, not even sparing a glance at the one next in line, a hollow blackened chunk with wires frizzing from it and the acrid smell of melting hydro-carbons rising from it. He stepped to the next one, placed his bottle above it, and began inputting the commands, trying to get it to run a ship-wide diagnostic. He was not stepping outside those doors, even if there was a homicidal hocus-pocus woman in here with him. Now a menopausal hocus-pocus woman. That would be a different matter entirely. A small noise prompts him to turn around to look at her, and he is surprised to see her awake, propped up on her elbows, her face a sickly looking yellow. An attempt to move towards her is halted when she raises a hand in his direction and gestures, before collapsing with a small noise of pain. A sensation of a light shove momentarily unbalanced him as he remained where he was, before slowly folding his legs, so as not to tower over her so much. Palms outstretched so as to show a lack of weaponry to his wary guest. He leaned back against the terminal, morbidly glad his blaster was in the wreckage somewhere, he didn't want to be attacked again. It takes time, but she opens her eyes again, their piercing blue fixed on him. Fear, pain and confusion filling them, not the eyes of a killer, but an animal. A scared wounded animal. Slowly he gestures towards the bottle and mimes rolling it to her, seeing no disagreement, he does so. She picks it up gingerly as if expecting it to bite her, fingers running over it as her eyes remain fixed on him, before she opens it and begins to drink small measured sips of the tepid water within.

He sees her eyes roll over the bridge as she drinks, taking in the ruins: blown consoles, sparking lights, debris all across the floor, Drinker's corpse still fastened into its seat, head sunk if sleeping on the blown terminal in front of it. All bathed in the bloody red of the emergency lighting. He squints, trying to make out some details of her face, seeing what looks like a tattoo across the bridge of her nose, skin pulled taut against the bones of her face. A bloody gash crying tears of ossified blood down her forehead. Seeing she is making no further attempt to attack him, he rests his chin in one hand and closes his eyes, waiting for her to finish, knowing if she was to attack him he'd die whatever he did.

When the sounds of her drinking ceases he looks up, and sees her looking at him her gaze more wary than angry now, she starts to question him, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Where am I?"

"You're on the ship, The Harbinger, we're currently adrift in an unknown planetary system. Who are you?"

His response is calm, although he is wondering if dodging the rooms' rubbish was in his future again.

She ignores his question in favour of her own, her eyes panning around the dimly lit room

"What is here?"

"The Harbinger, a crusader-class gunship manufactured by Mandal Hypernautics of Mandalore, this was made for a leader known as Fenn, "

His face froze as he realised that maybe mentioning Mandalorians to her could be a bad idea."

"You're not a Mandalorian. What are you?"

Well scratch that then. And it wasn't just his fault he had a belly, try exercising on a cramped space station while working double shifts.

"My name is Ed Davies, 2nd Programmer and senior crewman of this fine vessel by default, being the only one left alive and all."

He saw her eyes wander to the corpse again.

"That would be our test pilot, Drinker, he was killed by an electrical surge."

He paused briefly then asked her again.

"Who are you?"

He again received no reply. She lay back down and closed her eyes, drawing her hood over them casting them in shadow. He remained where he was for a moment, wary of antagonizing her before the necessity of gaining a damage report out-weighed his concerns about her potential reaction. Rising with a wary eye on her, he made his way to the console and started inputting his command codes into the system. Ordering a system-wide analysis and situational report. Seeing Drinkers slumped figure out of the corner of his eye, he realised at least the poor bastard should be covered over. Stepping to it and placing a hand on his shoulder he realised that half of the face was dangling into the electronic innards of the console. Shuddering he backed away and began to start tidying up the detritus on the bridge while he waited. Shifting the larger chunks he could manage into a pile and scavenging any seemingly intact components, he was sorting through a small pile by a terminal when he came across part of his glasses, lenses still intact. A little later he found the other half, he stood up and moved over towards some exposed wires, using a small knife to cut a segment off that he wrapped around the break and fastened on the tips of the arms. Placing them on his face before using the spare wire to make a loop behind his head, twisting it to take up the slack. A quick glance at the motionless Jedi revealed a grimace of pain under the hood. Without a second thought, he moved to a pile in a corner hunting for the medical kit that had been stashed there, a careless knock reminding him of his own burns. A muttered prayer that they were flash burns crossed his lips, he had no idea how to treat sub-dermal injures.

A quick search found the kit and he quickly used the burn lotion there on his hand, smoothing it into the aggravated skin, a quiet hiss released at the sensation before he relaxed. That done he took a roll of bandage and a couple of pain meds to her, stopping midway as her head turned to face him, before continuing and leaving them by her side. A glance at the terminal showed the computer was still working on the reports he'd ordered. With a sigh and an unvoiced complaint about poorly optimised operating systems, he turned back to his tidying, doing his best not to disturb the Jedi. A Jedi with a sore head he reasoned, would be rather like a hung-over Wookie, disturbing them would likely cost you limbs. And he was feeling rather attached to them at the moment. A shiver ran up his arms, the coarse hairs standing up, the temperature had been dropping noticeably, although it was not freezing it was cold. A wry thought that it was the lack of burning consoles responsible for the temperature, and that that could be corrected, did cross his mind. But given there was only one working currently he wasn't keen on destroying it. Plus it had an ongoing game of Intergalactic Minesweeper going on, and damn him if he was losing that.

A quiet bleep broke his concentration as he turned towards the terminal in question with a smile tugging at his lips at the sight; one that quickly fell as his eyes scanned down the results before a harsh "D'Arvit" escaped his lips at the sight, needless to say it was even less pretty than he was at this point. Which given the stink of burnt plastic and hair, along with the streaks of now clotted blood all over his face laying trails to the charred remnants of his beard, was pretty hard to manage.

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l DAMAGE REPORT l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . . . . . l Critical Systems l . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . . ****l**** Reactor: Critically Damaged: Max Power at 2.5% l**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . . ****l**** Backup Power Source: Depleted l**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . **

**. . . . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . . ****l**** Main Life Support: Damaged l**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

** . . . . . . . l ****Navigation Systems l**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . **

** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . . ****l Hyper-drive: Inoperable, Minor Damage**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . . . . .**** . . . .**

**. . . . . . ****. . . . . . .**** . l Main Engines: Offline l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Inertial Dampeners: Undamaged, Operating at 50% efficiency l . . . . . **

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . . ****l Navigation Computer: Destroyed l****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . . . . **

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Navigational Deflectors: Undamaged, Online at 45% power l ****. . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Communications Array: Not Located l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .**** l Combat Systems l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Laser Cannons: Inoperable l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Point Defence: Inoperable l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Cloaking: Not Located l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Combat Shields: Offline l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Fire Control: Offline l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . **

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .**** l Emergency Systems l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . **

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Emergency Beacon: Not Located l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Escape Pods: None Remaining l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Solar Cells: Retracted l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Auxiliary Life Support: 42 hours remaining l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l Primary Processing Core: Destroyed l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .**** l LIFE SIGNS DETECTED: 2 l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l 1x Human l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l 1x Near-Human l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . **

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .**** l HABITABLE AREA: 15% l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . . . .**

**. . . . . . .**** l HULL INTEGRITY 25% l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

Seeing no other alternatives he diverted the power from the dampeners to the deflectors. Then he attempted to extend the solar cells, only to be foiled by yet another lurid 'ERROR!' Message. They were jammed in their housing, which meant he would have to go out there and free them. If they wanted any chance of survival. His eye wandered down the report again cursing the fact he didn't know of the cloak. It would have been very useful while they were being chased. The number of life-signs brought an unhappy grimace to his face. There had been a team of 30 working on the vessel, according to the sensors he was the last one left alive. A snort escaped unbidden as he read the description of the Jedi, near-human, how informative. Putting aside his thoughts for now he examined the currently pressurised areas of the ship, trying to work out how he was meant to get an EVA suit from the bridge. Before shifting over to the doors.

He was lucky. The twin bulkheads which separated the bridge from the rest of the ship were still intact, with the emergency suit in the locker. He cycles open the first door and checks the suit for any obvious damage. Unconvinced by his own assessment he assembles the suit and opens the valve on the oxygen tank, inflating the suit. Despite his efforts he could hear no hissing noise, which was comforting. He backed up and closed the door again. He brought up the security camera feed and angled it at the suit. He then de-pressurised the makeshift airlock. An absent-minded glance at the fragile-looking front window made him consider, and he made the shutters rise, hopefully negating the risk of the window shattering. Not like there was much too look at anyway. Content with his actions and a further glance at the still motionless Jedi he sat down. Patting a non-present breast pocket before shrugging he switched the terminal to his game.

4 moves and half an hour later, he was still playing the game. Switching over to the airlock he cycled the air back in, waited for the pressure to equalize and examined the readings from the suit. Its' performance was well within acceptable parameters, a quick command and the air in the suit was pumped back into the canister, the suit deflating like an old balloon. A muttered curse at his own idiocy slipped past his lips, as he realised he could have tasked the computer to a more detailed analysis of damage suffered by the integral systems, like life-support. Moving across he in-putted the appropriate command. Leaving the initial overview up he shifts back to the suit and begins to put it on as the relative quiet of the room is broken by the still Jedi.

"What are you doing?"

"Life support and power are offline, we are running off auxiliaries. About two days left. There's solar cells in the hull, computer says they are intact but jammed, I'm going to head out there to free them, otherwise the deflectors will fail, and the ship will be ripped apart."

His answer was muffled briefly when he pulled the helmet over his head and hooked it up, before coming through the speaker.

"Very Well."

He squints at her, her face blank and her voice bland, though both were tinged with pain. They could have been discussing a perfectly mundane subject for all the interest she showed.

Shock most likely, was his opinion. Still he needed to do it, although at least she couldn't lock him out of the bridge. He double-checked the suit and over pressurised it slightly, just enough to check for any leaks, finding none, he dropped the pressure, wincing as his ears popped. A slow walk took him to the bulkhead as he picked up the toolbox he'd found, along with a coil of wire he'd taken from the detritus. He knotted the middle of it around the belt of the suit and to the two magnetic clamps from the toolbox, with no gravity on the rest of the ship he would need the handholds.

A quick tug confirmed the cable was tightly knotted onto the belt of the suit he was wearing, clasping a clamp in his off-hand, he attached the other to the wall by his side, giving it a tug to check. Before keying in the code for the outer bulkhead door, a careful eye on his suit's readouts. He didn't survive this long to die in a dodgy suit.

* * *

Unknown to him though as soon as he opened the outer door she was up and moving. She staggered towards the working terminal, grimly determined to reach it, despite her blurred vision and aching body. Supporting herself she read the report and tried to access its data. But everything was locked behind codes, the only item she could access was a bizarre program with 'MINESWEEPER' proudly proclaimed at the top. The little squares with strange symbols meant nothing to her, she set the terminal back to how it was and moved back to her makeshift bed, which she now realised was a large coat, reaching inside her questing hands found a soft rectangular object, pulling it out she realised it was a physical data device, a book if her studies were correct. Flicking it open she saw it was still full of more squares, nine large squares with nine small squares in each large one, more of those strange symbols were in some of the squares, seemingly at random, the page stained grey in places. Intrigued she sat herself up, drawing the thick coat around her as protection from the chilly air as she flicked through the book, trying to divine it's meaning and unlock the puzzle that were the symbols. She was soon totally absorbed by it, her pain relegated to a distant second place in her mind as she focused.

* * *

The door opened and with a quick intake of air, he stepped forward to the extent of the wire, before placing another clamp, before releasing the first. Wary that any failure of the artificial gravity could spell disaster, leaving him floating helpless in the corridor for hours. He carefully worked his way along before stopping. The corridor was abruptly terminated a few meters ahead, a gaping hole cut through it and the two floors above, open to space. The twisted edges of the blackened metal were the scars of a turbo-laser shot. Activating his helmet lights he leant over the hole, seeing space above his head, he decided to try getting to the outer hull from here, a gentle toss sent the freed magnet arching above his head, before it fixed onto the edge of the shaft. A harsh tug didn't dislodge it, releasing the other, he pulled himself up to it, and proceeded to work his way upwards, careful of the jutting metal that could slice his suit. Passing a higher floor he stopped suddenly after spotting another suited figure. His hope of a survivor was killed before it began as he saw the bar driven through the torso leaving the cold body pinned to the wall like a large specimen of some rare moth. Soon he heaved himself up onto the top of the ship near the front. He took in the enormous sight of the heavens in front of him; a few points of light he took to be planets, the orange glow of distant suns, and the jewel speckled silk that was the galaxy's stars. Turning around he saw the corvette's state; gashes and holes peppered the structure, the missing communications array proven by its conspicuous absence, blown clean off in after they'd jumped.

As he makes his way to the first of the solar cells he again took care to avoid the damage, noting with a morbid wonder that even the capital ship's turbo-laser fire hadn't penetrated through the corvettes hull completely, making the salvage a little easier. Although he could not speak for the cargo hold on the underside. He soon reached the first cell. The mechanism that should have shifted the cover, allowing the cell to extend, had jammed. He grumbled and tried to pull it loose, but getting a purchase proved impossible, he just floated off the deck. A quick glance at a protruding length of pipe in a nearby hole made him reconsider his actions. He quickly cut a meter length of metal with the hand torch he had taken from his toolbox. Flattening down one end, and carving a notch at the other he wedged it into the gap. Using both magnets as secure anchors he pushed the lever down with all his might. It soon came loose with a shuddering movement. The cell didn't emerge. Cursing the idiot engineers who came up with the system he shifted himself to look in and realised the damn thing was also knocked out of alignment. A quick thought and he ran the cable of the free magnet around the cover's hinge and attached it to the top of the cell and pulled. Too hard.

The cell rocketed out of its housing, extending as it did so, clipping him on the shoulder and knocking him off the hull, leaving him to spin around the cell as he was yanked upwards by the still magnetised clamp. Even louder curses were directed to the now dead engineers' ancestry, involving gungans, ewoks and hutt's, as he was left gently spinning 25m at least away from the deck around the now extended solar cell. Stars and Starship alike revolving around his world in a sickening display. Closing his eye's he reeled in the loose clamp before placing it further down the cell's frame, stopping his spinning. Checking it again before releasing the other. Slowly and tortuously he made his way back down, quietly glad that he was in space where no one could hear him scream.

Unfortunately for him the suit's radio was voice-activated, every colourful phrase repeated back to the bridge, ironically in perfect working order. A single raised eyebrow and small curl of her lips was the Jedi's only response. Meanwhile she continued trying to puzzle over the bizarre images in the book, note-taker open on the terminal, with multiple entries already entered in. She made an absent-minded note of any new phraseology she heard. It could become useful later on.

Grasping the comfortably solid handle of the toolbox he made his way over to the next cell. Again the cover was jammed, again he levered it open, having already sent the code to the cell to not extend, his bruised shoulder was throbbing enough. Checking it for errors he ordered it to extend, stepping back for good measure as it rose upwards. Nodding in satisfaction he made his way to the near side of the ship intent on abseiling down to check one of the side cells. As he made his way down, he could feel a sinking feeling as the battle damage on the ship increased, before reaching where he thought the housing should be. Only a twisted warped depression in the metal remained, it looked like it had been struck multiple times by lasers, fusing the armour together. A muttered curse was heard as he saw the damage only worsened lower down. Carefully climbing up, he crossed the top of the ship and abseiled down again, his care the only thing that stopped him setting the magnet onto a undetonated torpedo lodged in the hull. The profound curses that flew regarding 'dogmatic sharpshooting imperials,' was also transmitted to the bridge, where a clearly amused Jedi was openly grinning to herself. Though at the language or having a puzzle to think on was anyone's guess.

Finally he reached his fourth one. He found the cover slightly melted, one hinge completely fused, although half an hour's fumbling work with the cutting torch cut through it. With that done he levered it open. Seeing no problem with the cell, he ordered it up, so it was at his waist height. Attaching both magnets to the lower edge of the cell's frame, he then resumed its expansion, slowly. At its full extension he gently pushed off and finally got a glimpse of the rear of the ship.

The engines surprisingly seemed intact, although the casing was blackened and dented from the collision. The cargo bay was a wholly different story. It was utterly open to space. He couldn't work out how it happened but half of one side and what looked like the floor of the bay was gone, along with a greater part of the cargo. Luckily for him, the remaining boxes were mechanically strapped in. They should still be there. Hopefully they contained spare parts. A lot of spare parts. And maybe some alcohol, for medicinal purposes.

A glint of sunlight reflected into his eyes as he pulled himself upwards, the ship had been reorienting itself to ensure maximum power for the solar cells. Satisfied with a job well done he clambered arm over arm, back down the cell, and made his way back to the hole where he'd exited the ship.

* * *

On the bridge the Jedi's movements spoke of excitement as she starts adding in symbols, deciding to replace the nine symbols with the first nine letters of the alphabet, having assumed that the symbols themselves did not matter, just their ordering. Having done so, she starts to see a pattern, each large square, column and row held one of each symbol. Deciding to try it out she turns back to the terminal in an attempt to carry out her theory, the solar cells notification going unread.

* * *

As he scrambled back into the hallway, and made to turn back towards the bridge, he remembered about the back-up batteries, one of which should be on the level below this. A quick look at the oxygen and power reading of his suit confirmed his decision. Shrugging he turned back towards the hole and climbed down a level before entering through a gap into the adjacent corridor. It was dark and quiet, no other light split the dark, no hum of machinery underfoot. Moving at a faster pace due to the lack of obstructions, he soon reached one of the battery banks. A quick code input to the door and it hissed open, air exploding past him. Knocking him into the far wall with a large object landing on top of him. Shoving it aside he realised it was another technician, long dead, face and fingers blue. He had either asphyxiated or frozen to death. Morbidly grateful he hadn't just killed the man, he stepped past and into the room, leaving the corpse to bump from wall to wall in the corridor.

The room looked intact, further confirming the technician wasn't a direct casualty. The batteries seemed functional, just de-powered. Hooking into the system and powering it from the suit, a diagnostic confirmed the only issue was that the couplings were dis-connected, a simple pull of a lever fixed the issue and he left the room. Closing the door behind him, just in time for the corpse to bump into him again, a startled shove sent it pin-wheeling down the darkened corridor, beyond the reach of the suit lamps, he wasn't keen on following it however.

* * *

The Jedi's eyes lit up with an excited light as the last was entered symbol, she double-checked the puzzle 'Yes.' Each symbol was there, nine times in nine separate squares, she's about to turn away when an alert comes on the terminal.

**'BATTERY 2 ONLINE, STATUS: CHARGING 4%'**

Dismissing it as not immediately important, she turns the page of the dog-eared book eagerly, fascinated by the next puzzle. She assumes it's the same rules and proceeds to start working on it.

* * *

Careful making his way back along the dark empty corridors of the ship, his mind turned to his passenger, the as-of-yet nameless Jedi. She had clearly been in combat with the nerves to match, her attempt to kill him proved that. She was stubborn and mistrustful of his intentions, for which he didn't blame her, she knew nothing of him other than what he said. Good pain tolerance and discipline, given she had yet to take the pain meds, he'd left for her, or paranoid. Observant and perceptive, she weighed him up, almost before she could see him properly. Arrogant with her speech, he wouldn't be surprised to find that she'd gone through his coat in search of information. Still she was clearly logical, her questions and lack of further murder attempts proved that, she was incapacitated and he'd not harmed her, even after she tried killing him, therefore not an enemy. Pausing at the hole in the wall, he turned and went around the corner instead, realising that with only one suit, she had no chance of escape if the structural integrity of the bridge failed. Reaching his destination, an emergency suit storage, he reached in, and repeated his earlier safety checks with this suit. No point lugging a broken one up to the bridge after all.

It inflated, no pressure loss, temperature low but that was fine. Deflating it again, he waited for all the air to be recompressed before sorting it into a carry-able form and moving back to the exit. A spare wire went around it, tying it to the toolbox. He squeezed through the hole first. Carefully pulling it with him as he started to climb back up, soon he was back at the doors, grateful that the lack of gravity meant it didn't weigh anything. He checked for air in the airlock, then opened the outer door. Stepped through. Closed it. Waited for the air to cycle back into the space, then opened the inner door again. Stepped through and saw the Jedi lying right where she should be. Seems she was still feeling unwell.

* * *

She was enjoying herself, quite a bit. Each puzzle was distinct from the next but the same basic stratagems could be used with each one. She was stuck on the third puzzle when the screen alerted her to the de-pressurisation along with the outer door opening. She reset the terminal back to the original report and shuffled back to her spot, nearly falling over as her aches manifested themselves back along with the tingling of pins-and-needles in both legs. She reached the coat and slumped down on it rolling herself over, stuffing the book back in a pocket right before the door opened. And 'Ed' stepped through, the door closing behind him. He gives her a quick glance and moves over to the terminal seemingly satisfied with the results. Suddenly he staggered and collapsed, slumping and falling backwards. She kept still. It could be a trick. Then she heard him snore. Loud rumbling snores, the loudest thing she'd heard since she awoken. Keeping her eyes on him, she tried to rise, one hand propping her up. She carefully walked to the terminal, curious about what relived him so, skirting around him, she looked at the updates on the terminal.

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .**** l Solar Cells Status: Operational 67% Efficiency l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . **

**. . . . . . .**** l Backup Battery #2, Status: Charging 10% l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . . . **

**. . . . . . .**** l Navigational Deflectors, Status: Online 85% Power l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . . **

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . .**** l WARNING: Auxiliary Life Support will fail in: 30 hours l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . .**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**. . . . . . .**** l Main Life Support Damaged l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . **

**. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .**** l ...Analysing l ****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . . .****. . . . . **

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

**l=-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-==-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=****=-_-=l**

30 hours, and they were just waiting here? She tried to work out a way to leave. But couldn't. The ship couldn't land, there were no escape pods, or inhabited areas nearby. Shifting away from the terminal, nor anyway to call for help. One of her feet knocked into an outstretched arm. Realising the awkward position the human was in she crouched down and shifted him so he was lying flat on the floor ,part of the EVA suit used as a pillow for his head. Crouching aggravated her sore muscles and stars burst behind her eyes. Staggering she returned to the coat and lay down, casting the pain meds a tempted yet suspicious look before starting to meditate, she soon fell asleep as well. And a peaceful silence covered the room, the only movement a little rotating symbol on the terminal as it worked away.

* * *

Authors Note 2: Okay for the next few chapters it will be more character building between the two characters as they build a workable relationship and fix the ship up somewhat.

Also I have uploaded a story art. Feel free to give your thoughts on it.


	4. Chapter 3: Introductions

His consciousness slowly returned, the dull gun-metal grey of the ceiling the first sight seen by his itching eyes. Rising up, he adjusted his glasses, turning his head to the Jedi, sat on his coat. Seemingly sleeping still. As he pushed himself to his feet, a tilt of her head showed she was awake and aware. Deciding on manners rarely being taken the wrong way he wished her a good morning.

"Good Morning."

Well, a response was unexpected.

"What are you intending today?"

He walked over to the terminal, his spare hand massaging his crooked neck. Reaching it he scanned the report a moment, a thoughtful hum escaping before he turned to look at her.

"The computer has finished its analysis of the main life support systems, they are all capable of operating, now we have the power, except for three; heating, oxygen recycling and water recovery. I'll fix them today, there is nowhere else in the system. It'll give us more breathing room."

"Where's the damage?"

The question was predictable, and he had an answer ready, albeit an uncertain one

"Heating's the simplest, a loss of pressure in the primary system, hopefully just a damaged pipe. Oxygen recovery is showing up as completely broken, given we are still breathing, I know it's wrong about the pipes leading to the bridge, hopefully about the rest too. I'll head to the main machinery and check there, hopefully, it's not too serious. Its water recovery I'm not sure about, the program can't find any errors. I'll have to start at the machinery and move outwards, checking everything. If nothing else a patch will help."

He paused for a moment before commenting a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"With luck then we'll be set for life."

A deadened look was shot his way at the puns. One slender finger extended as she asked.

"And the second suit?"

"Precaution."

He shot the suit a quick look, apprehension crossing his face. Then at her pale green face which did little to alleviate the tension.

"I don't know the state of the superstructure around the bridge, any sign of trouble and you can get in it. Might have to ditch those robes though."

"Not for me to assist in the repair work?"

An arched eyebrow accompanied the sentence. It's owner face unimpressed.

"No, you've not moved since we got here, even if you were fit as a fiddle, you're going to be plenty stiff. Try standing up if you want to prove me wrong."

Pausing he seemed somewhat amused at her not moving. His response deepened her irate expression further.

"Try some light exercise, I always find that helps, just sitting there won't do you any good."

Her eyebrow climbs even further up her face, a decidedly frosty look sent his way convincing him that discretion, as always, was the better part of valour. If only he could remember that before jumping into potential pits.

"Tell you what, I'll keep an eye out for more cable and clamps until I find some, there's no point you leaving here, unless your 'force' can make gravity?"

Reaching his own folded suit he starts suiting up. Sliding and locking the helmet in place before stepping through the opening door, a small wave goodbye is the last she sees of him.

As soon as she felt the second door open, then close again. She tried to get up, a growl escaping her lips as her muscles rebelled. The human was right. Not that she'd tell him that. Frustrated at her failing attempts, she starts to move what muscles she can. Warming herself up. A pleased feeling overtook her as she realised that her skin was darkening back to its normal tone once more. Settling back down she focused on trying to move sore muscles. Helped along by her still-weakened force powers, which soothed the aches somewhat, despite her poor focus.

* * *

He clambered down the now-familiar hole and angled himself through into another dark empty corridor, moving as quickly as possible through the vessel, headlamp piercing the silent darkness ahead. He soon reached the oxygen reclamation machinery and groaned. It was obvious what was wrong, a crate had seemingly hurtled into a nest of piping, smashing and denting a number of them. A quick check of the sizes required and he left the room, moving towards a temporary supply room, and torch light sliding over the walls. An unspoken hope was that the pipes were there. If not it was a long walk to the cargo bay.

GROWL!

He stopped dead, a sharp intake of sterile air as he spun around, hands flailing, the light skittering from surface to surface like a startled Jawa. As his eyes squinted into the darkness. Everything was silent and still. The only noise the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Trembling he backed into the wall, turning off his torch, waiting in dead silence and the cloying darkness for the next noise.

Noise? The corridors were not pressurised, how could he hear anything?

GROWL!

Oh, now he could tell what it was, he hadn't eaten for days. Resolving to solve the persistent nagging of his clenching stomach, he made a mental note to check for food. The body fat would only take him so far.

* * *

She was having more success, rotating the various joints in her upper body, stretching her slender arms out. A cursory wriggle of her fingers was accompanied by a frown of discomfort as the stabbing sensation of pins and needles raced down them. Stretching herself out she reached down to her legs which remained resolutely numb and started to rub the taut muscle under the skin, hoping to relax them.

* * *

Success. All the pipes he needed were in the storage room, a quick couple of trips and he had them in the room. At least the lack of gravity made shoving the goods trolley around easier. It took more time to remove the damaged piping, luckily it was modular. Luckily none of the damage seemed to be beyond this room. Well, except for missing parts of the ship.

Time passed and soon all the piping was replaced, the troublesome crate shoved into a convenient closet. He was not going to play plumber again if he could help it. Shifting the mangled piping into the trolley he left it in another room close by seeing no way it could harm an empty room. Activating the scratched terminal provided the results he was after. The entire machine was fully functional, setting its parameters and connecting it to the terminal in the bridge he moved back out of the room, mentally reviewing his next destination, the heating units at the bottom of the ship, near the engines.

The only way he could think of getting there was by the cargo bay. Hoping some of the catwalks was still intact he started to make his way there. The lack of anything interesting left him with his loudly complaining stomach as his only companion in the dark passageways.

* * *

She found walking around was a lot easier now. Her leg muscles still ached, but it was subsiding as she moved around the bridge, taking her first proper steps in potentially years. An attempt to move faster though only resulted in her muscles complaining louder. Resigning herself she started a circuit around the clear floor of the room allowing her mind to sink into meditation again. The acrid smoky smell still haunting the air fading into inconsequence.

* * *

Finding an intact stairwell, he made his way down to the catwalks on the bay's third floor. Levering open a buckled door he found himself right where he wanted to be. Unfortunately, as his light played out across the cavernous hold he could see the torn remains of the catwalk hanging, it had been severed in the middle. A good-sized gap, more than he could normally leap. A quick glance at the walls proved that climbing around the room would take too long, the unstable jumbled piles of cargo reinforcing the idea that attempting to cross the floor of the hold would also be a bad idea. There was no obvious way to reach the ceiling either the sharp spikes jutted from the warped wall behind him. He slowly moved along the catwalk as he tried to see other options. One was obvious. He dismissed it. Still, as he reached the end of the path he had no better options.

He unclipped the magnets from the floor and grasping the two supporting cables at the end of the catwalk levered himself parallel to it, a quick glance across to gauge the angle. An intake of breath and he bent his arms, pulled and released, floating freely in space.

A feeling of fear grabbed him, if he was wrong he could be stuck there, just floating in the hold, forever. Trying to squish it down he watched the other end of the catwalk come closer, agonizing slowly. Was it getting further away? It was. Fear exploding into full-blown panic as the realisation that he'd pushed himself up as well as towards the catwalk set in. Arms stretching, hands grasping for a hold as he floated over it. But not close enough. He started to wildly flail, desperate for contact. The magnets drifting along behind like weights in a net.

A gentle tug broke his momentum and he arced down to the catwalk hands grasping the edges of it with a grip of death. Heavy breathing echoing in his ears. Once he'd recovered somewhat he tried to push himself upright again. And couldn't. An awkward turn of his head over his shoulder revealed his saviour, a trailing clamp had brushed against a railing and locked. Shuffling backwards, he reeled in the other clamp and fixed it to the opposite railing. Before releasing the first. Pushing upright he made his way to the far door, cursing himself for such a moronic idea that nearly failed so badly.

More dark corridors had to be navigated through, although these seemed more cramped, the numerous frozen corpses of his co-workers floating by didn't really help matters. He tried to ease past them, but his unfamiliarity with the suit sent them gliding off into the darkness more often than not, causing them to knock into each other and the walls. He tried to avoid looking at the tortured expressions on their faces as they twirled past him. A strange silent dance of the dead. Repressing a shiver at what a quick glance behind him provided, he slid through a small door into the primary heating unit. Another frustrated groan slipped past clenched teeth at the sight before him, the pump chamber seemed to have been split. A frozen fountain of glistening ice crystals caught mid gush rose out of the hole, more covered the floor, making footing treacherous. At least he didn't need to put any weight on his feet in the weightless environment.

Swearing lightly about how he was a 'bloody programmer with an academy qualification, not some plumber,' he started to get to work.

First, he took a hand axe from the toolbox and started to hack the ice off of the ruptured tank. Dropping the chunks into a convenient crate. He continued to work, down the side of the pump before trying to hack the coating on the floor, levering up the large chunks. Turning to the pump chamber he saw that a patch should do the trick, removing a heavy wrench from his toolbox and started to work on getting the damaged top off. Soon it was done. Again the normally heavy object proved difficult to shift, a quick use of the clamps and a convenient pipe allowed him to pull it off enough to start to work, shifting his head inside he was pleased by what he saw. The damage was clean, thankfully, patching would be a lot easier. A quick job and he was ready to push it back into place.

Glancing at the crate of ice and the blowtorch still in his hand brought a thoughtful expression to his face. Pushing off to the terminal he found the room was sealed and could be pressurised. Soon it was, shifting the crate over the still open pump he punctured a hole into the side of the crate, and started to melt the ice, using the torch's lowest setting, soon it started; first dripping then flowing into the pump, soon the ice was virtually all gone and he turned the torch off. Seeing no further leaks he shifted the patched dome back over the pump and tightened it back into place. Moving back over to the terminal resulted in a backup pump filling the primary with water, forcing the remaining air out. He was not going to be the nitwit that was going to have to bleed the whole heating system because air got mixed in. He was done playing plumber. Satisfied he turned, took his tools and clamps and moved over to the door to key himself out.

Nothing.

Confused he tried again. Same result.

A quick check revealed that it was a safety feature. The room was pressurised, the corridor was not. About to key in the necessary commands, he paused and floated there. Potentially the flash freeze was what had broken the pump if so he was lucky the rest of the system hadn't suffered the same fate. The automatic damage mitigation systems will have responded to compromised areas. Glancing back at the pump, he tried to work out how he could leave. Turning back to the room's terminal he accesses the bulkheads, a muttered expletive heard as he had to override the terminal's security to access them. Seeing he could seal the corridor, he did so and pressurised it. Tried the door again. It opened. Nodding he moved back to the terminal and inputted a command, the room's door was to close in a minute, the corridor would de-pressurise, then the bulkheads would open. Confirming it he moved back out into the corridor and waited for the commands to run. First the swish of the closing door. Then the hiss of the air going. Finally, the bulkheads unsealed. Satisfied he moved on. Taking another stairway down to the lowest level, before approaching the cargo bay.

* * *

She awoke out of her meditation to her legs moving easily and fluidly, the sharp pain nothing but a memory, although her muscles still felt strained. Casting a glance around to see what disturbed her. Seeing nothing she decided to move to the terminal seeing that two of the damaged systems were now repaired and functioning. With that she started to perform more intense exercises, determination driving her forward, she was not some helpless maiden.

* * *

The doors opened and he stepped through into the bay. It was a mess, with half the floor gone tons of cargo had been released to just float around. More had collapsed, spilling over the still-standing stacks. Carefully he made his way through, nerves screaming as a sense of impending death by crushing assaulted him, despite his knowledge of the lack of gravity. His frazzled nerves were not relieved by the occasional sight of limbs poking out from under fallen stacks, fingers grasping out for help that never came.

Averting his eyes he spotted a flash of white in his torch beam. Then another. He moved across and looked up, a small box that had been broken open was spilling the white packets of food that were strewn across the floor. Glad of the luck to come the way he grabbed as many as he could and put them in the toolbox, glad they'd already been vacuum-packed and dehydrated. Lucky. He never liked flash-frozen food anyway.

Continuing on he found the door he was after, a couple of crates fallen against it. Attaching one clamp to a crate, he looped the wire around a handle and attached the other to a crate. He took up the slack in the wire and slowly pulled the topmost crate loose, soon followed by the other. The door itself was undamaged and easily opened to allow him passage. Despite the seeming safety, it didn't stop him from darting under as quickly as he could, skin pulled taut across his face as he stared up at the two slowly drifting crates, each his size, before clonking his head on the bulkhead,

Stars flew and hissed expletives bounced with the spittle onto the visor. His tone certainly matched the décor in front of him.

This section of the ship seemed to have suffered even worse damage, some doors were dented, warped in their housing, others had sparking panels. At least there were mercifully fewer corpses here. Soon he was outside the unit, the door buckled in the frame, leaving him no choice but to lever it open to get at the machinery. The seemingly intact machinery? A frustrated groan eased out. If that bloody bug-riddled mess of a damage control program couldn't even tell him the error in the system it left him with no other alternative than to check everything. It appeared the machinery was intact and functional, just dead, power was in the area, he knew that. So the electrical systems were at fault.

A resigned 'First I'm a plumber now I'm an electrician, what next' resounded through his mind as he moved over to the dead terminal, checking its power. The entire room was seemingly devoid of power. Stepping back out, he traced his way back till he found a live terminal. A quick check found it. It seemed a substation had failed somehow on the level. Memorizing the route, he quickly made his way to the sub-station opening the door. Walked in. It seemed intact, just switched off.

Seeing what looked like a fuse box he unscrewed the lid and opened it up. It was a fuse box. A fuse box with nearly every fuse blown. That would account for a loss of power.

Glad he carried the necessary replacements on him he set to work swapping the fuses over. A sparking connection reminded him to cut the power to the box, and he continued. Soon he was done. The lid was screwed back on and made his way to the water recycler. His route brought him past a door, drunkenly leaning into the corridor, attempting to shift back and out of his way. Allowed him to see another backup battery set-up in the room. A quick search proved that it's fuse's had also been blown. A quick repair and it started to work.

* * *

She was unfit. The cryo-stasis must have been a lot longer than she had previously estimated. Lightly panting, her exasperation at having worked up a sweat over the, to her, minor exercise written into her expression. Her robes were neatly folded by the coat to get them out of her way. The sweat made her dark short hair clinging to her head. With a huff of air, she completed the set she was determined to press onwards. Sinking back into her meditations she continued her movements. She was not some youngling she was a knight, with the self-discipline and strength expected of one.

* * *

A quick check of the recycler proved it was now working perfectly, and he started to make his way back to the bridge. A toolbox filled with food and a jauntiness to his step. Life support was online, they had power, water and food. A more survivable situation in other words. Even the darkness of this drifting hulk couldn't dispirit him. Short of his own idiocy, there was nothing in the whole system that could hurt him. The Jedi needed him to fix the ship, if her clumsy attempts to hide her access to the terminal meant anything.

Now if only he could work out when and where the hell they are. A few guns would be nice too. They were completely vulnerable to anyone with bad intentions currently. Soon he reached the by now familiar hole and climbed up reaching the door, opening it and stepping through. Waiting for the airlock to cycle. Before the inner door opened up, what he saw surprised him. To say the least.

* * *

She heard the door open and completed the set before she turned to face the human, only to see him stood there. A look of shock on his face, eyes wide, helmet now forgotten in one hand.

* * *

As the doors slid open he changed his attention from the suit he was struggling with to the movement he could see on the bridge. The Jedi was there, sweat glistening on rich green skin as she moved. Her muscles pulling taut and relaxing, her whole body sinuously moving with unexpected grace. Almost dancing. Her slender form was only garbed in a crop top and tight shorts, robe presumably elsewhere. Realising on the raising of an eyebrow he'd been caught gawking like some impressionable farm-boy he stepped in and quickly stripped off the suit, folding it neatly before turning, seeing she had ceased her movements and was now stretching herself out, contorting her body in borderline painful ways. He felt the need for conversation and attempted to strike one up.

"I see you are feeling better, any residual pain?"

She ignored his question in favour of one of her own.

"Is the life-support now working?"

Shrugging it off him responded.

"For now, hopefully, the repairs will hold until I can get the work done properly."

"You do not intend to leave. Why? This a warship. There are no functioning weapons, no shields, barely any power. Even the engines are not working. Yet you intend to stay here."

Her disbelief was clear.

"That is true, but this dysfunctional warship outran, outfought and out-flew everything that was thrown at it. I'm part of a crew of outfitters tasked with adding additional features onto the ship. We were hit with a surprise attack at our dock. We had barely any combat systems powered up, nor combat-ready personnel except for the test pilot, and a couple of veterans in advisory roles. Not all of us were on the ship when the attack happened. And we won."

He seemed almost personally offended by her critical evaluation of the ship. His frown deepened at the dismissive wave of her arm as she gestured at the bridge.

"How do you call this winning? You fled like a coward, doubtless while your co-workers were slaughtered."

"Our task was to keep the ship away from the attackers and intact. It was accomplished, therefore we won."

The irritated look on her face was plain, eyes briefly squinting as if to check the sight before them.

"Regardless this is a floating junk-heap, one stray shot from collapse."

"This 'junk-heap' saved our lives, it went toe-to-toe with frigates before the upgrades and is now the finest damn ship of its class. With a whole heap of additional features. The last stage of the chase was with me and the pilot being the only ones left here. He tried to hide us in an area which he knew was dangerous. It was dangerous all right. Smacked damn well into an empire remnant. Over a dozen patrol corvettes came after us. But before the console got him we'd shaken or destroyed most of them. Without functional weapons OR a crew."

Feeling the conversation falling into an argument, he abruptly cut it off and walked back over to the console, trying to calm himself by working on program that could allow him to work out potential areas of the ship to pressurise and thus build a rough damage report. Time passed by. He got so involved in it he didn't notice her moving up beside him.

"It was tactless of me to be so blunt about this vessel, regardless even you must acknowledge that it is badly damaged."

Sensing an olive branch he saved the program and turned to face her. She was close to him, her green skin still lightly shined with sweat.

"My apologies, I should not have reacted as I did, you were voicing an opinion, nothing more. It was wrong of me"

Sensing acceptance she moved the topic off from their precarious predicament, something he was glad to do.

"You collapsed last night. How are you?"

"Collapsed? Humph. Exhaustion probably, I'd not slept properly in what, four days, five? Hard to tell, and not eaten even longer. Speaking of which I found some food. Hungry?"

Her sharpened look tells him all he needs and he makes his way back to the toolbox, opening it up. A single screw resting on the food packets. Mocking him. Pocketing it, in the hopes, it wasn't part of something critical. He reached further in and grabbed some of the white packets and offered some to her, a mild wrinkle of the nose her initial response to the offering. Reluctantly she took one and some water and started to soak the dark hard-tack and mysterious leathery jerky. Using the rigid packets as holders for the, for lack of a better word food. Seeing the human, wolfing his down she tried tasting it. It was horrible, a bland taste and a disturbingly plain texture that made her want to spit it out again. Slowly she chewed and swallowed. Not understanding how he could gain such relish out of such a meal. Seeing her look he swallowed and responded with an awkward shrug of his shoulders.

"Bland huh? It's cheap, compact and keeps people alive and functioning. Still, look on the bright side. If it doesn't taste of anything at least it can't taste terrible."

He took another bite of the jerky, worrying it like a dog with a bone. Till a piece was ripped off and swallowed with a reflexive toss of his head.

"Unfortunately this is all we've got, but there's a lot of it, and in different colours too."

Seeing her disbelieving look he shrugged again.

"Military ship remember, not exactly a five-star kitchen on-board."

That got him thinking,

"Actually there might be, from back when it was first built. Still, this is a Puddleglum Products TM product, they don't have a record of being poisonous."

With her having finished her portion he gathered up the wrappings. Scrunches them into a ball, before tossing them into a nearby burnt-out terminal. Turning he makes his way back to the terminal, intending to finish the program and set it running before he started sleeping. Eventually, he was able to run it. Leaning back in the chair he turned to face the Jedi, now wearing her robes again and sat cross-legged on his coat. Before turning, seemingly on a whim.

"How about we introduce ourselves. I'm Ed Davies, technician of this ship The Harbinger. Who are you?"

A long pause. She seems to still even further. Before opening her eyes and looking at him. Dark lips opening slightly before closing, a tongue darting out to lick them. Eventually, she answered him.

"I was a Knight in the Jedi Order, former Padawan to Master Luminara Undulli. A General in the Grand Army of the Republic. My name is Barriss Offee."


	5. Chapter 4: A Puzzle and discussions

"The New Republic?"

He was completely bemused.

"Didn't know it had a Grand Army, just an army." He looked thoughtful for a second, "Though there's a navy too."

"There's nothing new about the Republic. It has stood thousands of years."

Her rebuttal caused him to stare at her in shock

"You mean the Old Republic, which collapsed decades ago. Before the Empire."

"Decades?"

Her question was soft and directed at herself more than him.

"And what's a Jedi Knight? You mean like that Skywalker guy, magicking reality around you as you fight gods and demons?"

It could be said mild scepticism was laced through his question.

"A Jedi Knight is first an individual blessed with the power to wield the force, who is taught how to work with it for the good of the galaxy."

"Yep, Magic Space Wizards campaigning for the Greater Good."

The laconic answer brought forth a withering rebuttal from the increasingly animated Jedi.

"The Force is not Magic, it is a carefully documented phenomena and there is a statistically significant correlation between the level of a person's midi-chlorins and their abilities with the Force."

'My mistake magic space virus, wonder if it's catching?' Putting the natural sarcastic response aside for a moment. He tried to steer her off the topic of magic powers.

"Okay, okay, my bad. What is a Jedi then? Or a Jedi knight? Some sort of Old Republic Martial Order?"

The response further staggers her. Faint shock across her features.

"You have never heard of the Jedi?"

"Yeah I have, those ones under Skywalker, but they are what? A couple of decades old? Not your bunch. Never heard of any other Jedi"

She's visibly rocked back by this new information from him. Her face twists in thought, dark lips pursed, attempting to communicate her knowledge clearly.

"The Jedi Order is an organisation dedicated to the Light Side of the Force and serving the Republic and people of the Galaxy. Guided by principals of justice and fairness and the Force itself."

"Hmm."

A fairly non-committal acknowledgement of her claims. A further carefully neutral statement followed.

"That's what Skywalker likes to say, well that and redemption, strange guy, his wife was one of the empire's shadow assassin's."

He shivered

"No idea how she went from trying to kill him to marrying him. She never failed before."

There it was again, that name, surely it was a coincidence.

"Wait, Skywalker? As in Anakin Skywalker?"

A strange apprehension seemed to shroud her face, shoulder's hunching, and muscle's tensing.

"Umm, maybe. The Jedi Boss is Luke though."

"Grandmaster."

She corrected absently. Mind awhirl, Anakin Skywalker had a child? She felt a triumphant feeling fill her, chasing away her shadowy lingering fear. So the golden boy, the chosen one, oh so righteous and arrogant had broken the code utterly. Till his voice broke into her fevered thoughts.

"Why aren't you a Jedi then?"

Ah.

"I believed that my order was responsible for the clone wars and that we had lost ourselves in the shadows. That we were responsible for the death of millions and had become nothing more than glorified enforcers for a corrupt and uncaring bureaucracy. These thoughts and their... results lead to me, leaving the order."

Her hesitation was telling, she was not telling all. The sight of the etched Consortium logo on the wall behind her reminded him that though she was not being utterly honest, neither was he.

"Ideological differences then. Fair. You aren't one of those foaming at the mouths fanatics, who'll slaughter all non-believers for existing and the slaughter their existence are you?"

She took great offence at that. "No. I am not a Sith."

Leaning back with hands spread in a conciliatory gesture, he quickly changed the subject again, eager to avoid antagonizing her. A hurried glance around the room leaving him with nothing to talk about except the ship itself.

"The ship's skeleton still looks intact, cargo bay aside. With some patches and replacement plating I could re-pressurise the interior, what with how most of the shots pierced only a few levels down. The machinery is still mostly functional. It's the lack of power causing the majority of the issues. The main shield generator seems intact, the engines functional. I just can't power them yet. Weapons are all dead, but I don't know the damage on them."

She'd calmed down again, her temper gone as quickly as it had flared up. He made his way over to the food, it usually distracted people well enough. With luck it would work on his erratic companion as well, he'd had enough shocks for a while.

"Where do you intend to get these repairs done? From your own tale the faculty you used was destroyed. Do you think you can just conjure up a new one?"

Returning to the food he proffered it too her. She starts to eat with a resigned acceptance for the bland sustenance clear on her face as she slowly chews. Gesturing aimlessly to the area around them, he points out the seemingly obvious to her.

"There's containers full of parts in the hold, not to mention various temporary store rooms throughout the ship, it shouldn't be too hard to repair a lot of the systems. Not to mention we have provisions to last for months potentially."

"You don't know what's in there, nor do you have any practical engineering experience. Yet you expect to be able to repair an 'advanced' warship?"

"True, but I know the entire ship was getting refitted, there's an excellent chance there'll be boxes of general parts all over the place. As for my experience, I helped out with some of the refits and sat with some of the engineers. Not to mention I've also have had an interest in engineering for years, it was a secondary subject for me at the academy."

He wasn't perturbed by her pessimism, oddly it seemed to buoy him up instead. As if she was only convincing him he'd thought of everything.

"And that training includes repairing an active reactor does it?"

Ah. His face stilled, he hadn't thought of that. Reactors were on the whole a tad fiddly. Never mind the fact this one was cutting edge, and temperamental at the best of times. Grasping for answers, he returned the only valid response he could. More in an attempt to soothe himself rather than convince her.

"The damage control program is buggy as hell, it's probably a lot of secondary systems and the reactor is throttled to prevent further damage. Like how the system recorded the entire oxygen system as kaput, but it was only some central piping. I can fix the peripherals or at least bypass them, that's just electronics"

"Maybe."

With that they fell into silence as they continued to eat their meal. She moved over to the packets and snagged a second set. After a moment, so did he. They continued to eat in silence. He stood up, brushed a few crumbs off him and moved back to the terminal, bringing up the program again and continued to work on it. She sat back, cross-legged on the coat, eyes closed in thought.

A quiet silence fell between the two in the room. The only sounds a strangely rhythmical noise of keys typing away on and their breathing, one light and quick, the other slow and deep.

Time passed and soon the program was nearly ready, a few tests had proved it workable. Unable to set the system to account for the holes in the ship. He instead set it to check the blast doors and split the resulting zones as small as possible. The resulting zones were then listed off. He'd have to go through the ship personally to check look for damage, but at least it was a start. The thought of walking down every corridor and ticking off every room as he went was enough to make him groan. Thoughts of dragging himself through every corridor in the ship, checking door hinges, crawling through darkened access ways and pulling himself up stairs, drifted in front of his eyes. He absentmindedly heard the beep of the terminal as the light emitted from behind him dimmed. He sighed, head briefly sinking onto his chest, before he straightened and pushed off the terminal, and spun his chair around. Only start backwards and nearly topple out at having come face to face with a steely pair of eyes. The startling blue of the Iris's flecked with yellow as she stared straight into his.

"What is this empire you've mentioned? No such organization of that name existed before."

"The Galactic Empire was a political organisation centred around the galactic core and hyperspace routes. The Emperor was served by a number of enforcers, the most prominent being Lord Vader and the ISB a security service. General characterisations of it would be, domestically peaceful, prosperous and safe. However it boasted a large military and powerful agents, spying on and disciplining dissidents. The leadership were also extremely xenophobic on the whole, and seemed to have a passion for expensive superweapons. It collapsed what, a decade or two ago with the death of the Emperor and Lord Vader aboard one of those super weapons and the subsequent fragmenting under various warlords."

She sat back to think on this for a second. Before asking for further elaboration, her own scepticism unhidden.

"How can you describe it as being both peaceful and violent at the same time? And how did its emperor die then if he was so powerful, accident?"

A tilt of his head before he answered indicated his attempt to marshal his thoughts on this matter.

"The first question is easy, after the horror and privation of a destructive all-out galactic war, what would people prefer, liberty or security? A few awkward people 'moving off-world' seemed a small exchange for peace. Not to mention, arguing with them meant dealing with an experienced and well-armed storm-trooper army. They also had complete control over all major information networks and likely cultivated them extensively." He shrugged, "People want stability on the whole, and loosing freedom's seems like a good deal initially." A humourless chuckle was heard. "Normally you only realize when it's your turn to feed the Krayat, and no one else cares cos it's not them and they're happy for it. Your friends turn into your deliverers to be thrown into the mouth of the ever hungry beast."

Seeing her confusion he simply shrugged again, "That's my opinion, think of it what you will. As for the emperor, he was killed in a rebellion raid, on a super-weapon. Apparently Skywalker went on a one man assault, got to the emperor and killed him, Vader as well, before narrowly escaping the resulting destruction. Sounds fake, but given the other stories I've heard of him. Meh. There were rumours the emperor turned up elsewhere after that though."

She looked if anything more confused but seemed to realise he didn't seem to have much more to say on the subject currently. Curious over his answer she wondered at his education, couldn't hurt.

"What sort of academy did you study in then to answer in such a way?"

Seems it could, his face closed down, the tilt more pronounced, and the pause longer. When he did answer, it lacked the previous confidence of his analysis, hesitating as if examining the words before releasing them.

"I attended a prestigious academy to learn programming and droid design. I got in by merit although there was always gossip." He paused, eyes turned inwards. "There were also lectures on engineering, piloting and military tactics that I attended. Along with the mandatory acclimatisation courses of course. They could be considered comparatively mild by normal standards. Everyone was important and those who weren't soon found patrons, I was an intelligent if awkward student there, always worth more than could be gained by involving me in the politicking."

"Was it a good experience?"

Another pause.

"I learnt a lot there. A lot of valuable knowledge and experience. It's served me well since then. "

It was clear while content to answer most questions, those of a personal nature were not going to be well explained. Seeing him shift back to the terminal she followed him. Her mid returning to it's conclusion.

"I need to leave."

"Can't"

"You would prevent me from leaving?"

Anger coloured her tone.

"Can't, not won't. Look." The sharp retort is followed up by him pulling up the system report.

"We lack the power to leave the system, either with the damaged hyper-drive, or by the main engines. There are no smaller craft on-board and no communications array. Even if they were, the navigational computer is fried. How would you propose you leave?"

She had no good answer. He knew that. And so did she.

"The only way would be to fix the reactor and the hyper-drive to go anywhere."

His answer is underwhelming. "Yes, but even with them. No computer means no hyperspace vectors, I don't even know where we are, and the data in the computer is badly corrupted. It can't work out where we are. The only thing I know is that we are somewhere in the Mid-Rim.

"We have sensors though?"

"Yes"

"Pull up the data, I should be able to triangulate our position by utilising the stars luminosity's and cross referencing them with the data."

"But the navigational data is..." He tried to point out

"Is unnecessary, don't you have a static cartographical database on these systems?"

"Star maps?" He's increasing bemusement works to temper his irritation "Yes, here."

He brings them up, surprised to find them somewhat intact, a quick glance causes him to realise they are a lot more detailed than he expected, especially on the so called unknown regions. She pays no further attention to him, attention devoted to the sensor readout's in front of her. Seeing the conversation to be over he quietly retreats back to another chair. Stooping over his coat briefly to retrieve a certain dog-eared book a wry look skittering across his face at the sight of the bent pages. Settling himself down, one knee crossed over the other he pulls a miraculously intact pencil from his shirt pocket, flips through the book to a more challenging puzzle and starts to focus on it. Being stuck on an experimental warship in an unknown period, unknown time and with an unknown companion wouldn't stop him from challenging himself with a good puzzle.

It practically flew by, the intellectual satisfaction of struggling with the puzzle only disturbed by the sensation of eyes on him at seemingly random intervals. Recognizing the futility of challenging her on such a seemingly harmless behaviour, he maintained his peace. Switching between puzzles whenever he was stuck for more than a few minutes. The lack of an answer book leaving him with mixed feelings, at least if he couldn't tell if he was right he couldn't tell if it was wrong.

It was difficult. Her attempts to narrow down their location where not helped by the imprecision of the instruments she was working with. She wished that she'd paid more attention to those dreary old masters lectures on astronomy and navigational dead-reckoning. It had not been the first time nor would it be the last. The lack of an accurate time frame meant she had to work with an estimated location for some of the stars. Like the binary star system the Krayat Eyes or

By utilising the records to determine a stars temperature, volume, peak emission wavelength and luminosity, along with a couple of well-drilled in constants should, when compared to the intensity of light recorded by the ship's sensors allow her to make an approximation to the area of space they were in. The more stars, the better. Unfortunately, despite the humans boasts, the sensors on this ship were not accurate enough. Raising a tense hand to smooth the creases out of her forehead as she started to construct the equations and calculate their margin of error. Using this systems star to test them where possible. Soon she had them ready. The error margins were far wider than she liked however. She ran through the equations independently first. They seemed to work. Then she started to list off notable stars, soon she had them.

Resigning herself to having to calculate each star independently she started inputting the data into the equations. It did produce results, but by the third set her mind was wondering, thoughts darting around as she continued the tedious work. Surely it could be simplified. Frowning she tried combining the equations into one. It took time and fiddling, but soon she had it. She tried running the previous sets of data through it. Same results. A sense of pride filled her, she'd had those lectures nearly a decade ago, when she was but a youngling. Yet she'd still managed to retain the information and use it when she needed it, unlike some she could mention, a brief view of orange and blue raced across her mind's eye before she angrily waved it away.

Soon she had the neatly tabled results she wanted and started plotting them onto a map. Point by point. Circle by circle. The large error margins even more apparent on the map. She soon had where they were narrowed down to one of a dozen star systems in the area. The inaccuracy of the instruments meant she could not narrow it down any further this way. Another quick glance at the seemingly absorbed human prompted her to wonder if maybe he could offer any useful advice.

Her pride held her from asking, she was determined to solve this problem. It was only a logic puzzle and she possessed the tools to solve it. Glancing at her short-list again she was suddenly struck by an embarrassingly obvious epiphany. She had failed to analyse the system they were in and compare it to the records.

Silently chastising herself for such an oversight she quickly checked the nature of the systems star, a relatively small and cool red dwarf. When cross referenced half of them were immediately removed; three red giants a brown dwarf and two M-class. The others were less obvious. Frowning she leaned back again and checked her data. Maybe using the gas giants might help. With a mental shrug she tried it. Triumph once again bubbling up as she was able to eliminate another four systems leaving only two remaining. But again, trouble. The maps she had, had those gas giants as the smallest astral bodies in their data. Frowning she pulled up more detailed data on the two. Scanning through incomprehensible data she spotted a reference to a destroyed salvage yard. Curious she read it closer and found out the second system had a dense concentration of scrap near one of the outer giants.

Maybe the scanners could detect it? With that she inputted the required parameters, waited. Positive Result. She'd found it. Out of uncountable numbers of stars, she'd narrowed down their location to this system using some maps and her own knowledge. Pride ran through her, allowing her to ignore the slight ache of her spine, fingers twitching. A cost of spending too much time hunched over manipulating the terminal. To her in her triumph though, it was a small price.

Feeling confident in her methods, she turned her head and spotted the human, still engrossed in his puzzle book, a quick call gets his attention and a crooked finger brings him over to her. She stands, and gestures at the terminal. He scans it for a while, following her equations, reading the data that correlated to this systems readings. An impressed whistle coming from between pursed lips as he saw and agreed with her findings. Satisfied he turned to her.

"Damm, that's clever. Using the luminosity of prominent stars to calculate their distance to us and triangulating our general position from the readings, allowing for a margin of error. Brilliant"

There was no condescension detectable in his voice, only a genuine sense of being impressed. His eyes scanned over the data again.

"Is that a scrap field in orbit there?"

Receiving an affirmative he quickly brought up the controls for the remaining inertial dampeners, quickly over-riding them and setting them to move the ship to the field. Before inputting the co-ordinates into the terminal. A quick check made him realise that both the batteries were almost half charged. The solar cells could not power the dampeners and the life-support concurrently. Decision made he shut life support down again, relying on the now recharged backup. Deciding to save the batteries for potential issues later.

Estimated time of arrival. 50 hours. Just over two days.

He turns to inform the visibly miffed woman beside him of what he'd just done and bid her a good night. Stopping to slip the battered book back into the coat pocket before settling down on a spare chair, allowing his body to go limp over the next half an hour. Faking sleep, a slitted eye catching her darting a questioning glance at him from the corner of hers. Before she quietly shifted to his coat and slipped the book back out. Taking it with her to the terminal. Settling herself back down, doubtless to continue to work on the puzzles. He wondered if he should tell her there was no obvious difficulty curve to their ordering. Nah. Best leave her to it. On the plus side it looked like she'd realised that killing him would only doom her. She wasn't too likely to kill him. With that comforting thought, he fell asleep.

* * *

Certain he was asleep a quiet snarl escaped her clenched lips. It was frustrating. This same puzzle had had her stumped for hours. No matter what he tried she could not confirm where any more symbols could go, every square had at least two options. She knew she'd solved the earlier puzzles the right way. A quick flick to the humans completed attempts proved that. Deciding that getting angry over her inability to solve the logic game was extremely foolish. She shifted back to the coat and lay herself down, glaring at the book. Intent on solving the aggravating puzzle. She would solve it soon.

She passed much of the night that way, either meditating to regain her focus, or working away at the little book.


	6. Chapter 5: Time to think

Authour's note 3 is at the bottom of the page.

* * *

She had not managed to solve it. She hadn't even been able to progress by so much as an extra symbol, despite all her effort.

It was deep in the early hours of the morning, the quiet space of the bridge only disturbed by the light snores of the human and her own breathing.

She was sat, eyes closed hands resting on her legs. Seemingly meditating. In reality she was intently focused on the puzzle, seeing it in her mind's eye. Unable to see how it was solvable but certain that it was.

She allowed her mind to wonder from the exasperating puzzle and instead focused on the presence of the human. Her thoughts turned to him.

She was uncertain what to make of him, he'd been honest, that she could determine, but her attempt to influence his mind had failed. Although it could be her own relative weakness it could also be he had been trained to resist it. Which lead to interesting questions on his own education. An academy on seemingly technical subjects seemed a strange place to learn mind techniques, debate and seemingly philosophy. Especially given his proficiency in them.

Still judging from the neutral way he'd referred to institutionalised xenophobia and his own behaviour she was fortunate that he seemed to have no issue with non-humans. Her prosecutor had given her the feeling that he considered her a microscopic piece of filth he was obliged to deal with and far too many were like that.

Wrenching her mind away from those oh so near low points she continued to analyse him. He was wary, but not hostile. Preferred flight to fight. At least if she read his motions correctly when she first woke up. Intelligent? Yes. Seemingly knowledgeable and capable of utilising it in new ways, along with a capability to foresee potential problems. A humorous memory of his panicked cursing filled her mind. Although it seemed not all potential problems. He had made no aggressive moves towards her. In fact she could almost be insulted that he'd treated her like she'd seen others treat a wounded animal. If not for the fact that he'd shown he knew non-sentient psychology to some degree. Not a skill he should have picked up while learning to code.

However, personality wise? She wasn't sure, she felt he was suppressing quite a bit whilst around her, the most she'd seen was some mild irritation and amusement, a lot of sarcasm though. Almost admirable for a non-Jedi, but compared to even most other padawans? Pitiful. A quick memory of a smiling orange togruta crossed her mind.

Complex… problems associated with her rose to the forefront. Shoving it away with a mental snarl she re-focused on him. He'd been polite when dealing with her, if careful. Still she could tell he was wary, concerned about something to do with her and in conflict about something different. Something big.

Still the dark whispers ever present at the edge of her mind showed that he wasn't the only one.

Her mind flickered again to another area of contention for him. His current employers, this consortium. Given the time difference they were unlikely to be the Separatists that she knew. Maybe a splinter faction, or on with similar ideals? Her eye's opened briefly and flicked around the bridge again, settling on the symbol before closing. She pondered its sharp raised edges. This ship belonged to a leader named 'Zann.'

A high ranking executive for sure, maybe a regional head? Strange it didn't look like one that would belong to some corporate exec. A certain slimy neimoidan came to mind. definitively not, this space was too, utilitarian. The whole ship spoke more of functionality over form. Still corporate lackeys always caused trouble, even the stupid ones, and unfortunatly this one was not stupid.

Remembering the limited use she could get out of the terminal. It was worth wondering to see if she could get more access through it. Likely there would be a lot of unguarded data files floating around on the ship's systems. She'd at least have a secondary data source to cross-reference what he told her. Yet another thing to sleep on.

Discarding those thoughts for later. She returned her attention to the puzzle. Holding it in her mind's eye before allowing herself to slowly slip into slumber. It may have been a trick of her tired mind but it seemed that just as she slipped away a face formed from the dents and shadows in the door. A familiar face. A betrayed face.

* * *

It had already been a day of travel. She was stretching herself out again exercising herself once more. Robes neatly folded by her makeshift bed. Her muscles felt much better already, although she wished for more space to exercise her limbs, core training was all well and good, but she did not want to unbalance her body.

She turns to the human, still hunched over the terminal, as he had been ever since he'd woken. Hands skittering over the terminal as he mutters seemingly nonsensically to himself. She straightened herself out and moved over to him. His muttering stopped and his hands ceased to skitter. Seeing she had his attention she asked him about the possibility of a larger training area. He didn't even bother to think on it. Simply replying with a casual shake of his head.

"Not possible. There's no sizeable area anywhere near here that's pressurised. You'll have to make do for now. "

While his tone was mildly apologetic he imperiously held a single grubby hand up, forestalling any retort. He brought up a ship report and leaned back, giving her room to look for herself. Even as he groaned over the sounds of his own spine popping.

Unfortunately, he was correct, there was no area she could use other than the bridge. Irritated at this she turned her ire onto him, enjoying the sight of his own mud brown eyes trying to escape the sharp gaze of her own yellow flecked ones.

"Then why are you not out there. Fixing this ship. You claim to be able. But since repairing the life-support all you have done is hunch over that terminal, chattering gibberish to yourself. If you're capable, why are you not fixing it, are you a coward?"

That got a reaction out of him for sure. His initial surprise and annoyance at her accusation transforming into offence and wounded pride at her suggestion. He straightened his back brining his head close to hers, although when she refused to move he leaned off to the side again.

"I'm not an engineer, much less a starship engineer, I'm a droid programmer. Unless I know what's broken and where. Along with how to fix it, what purpose does it serve if I spend the day floating around in wreckage? I'm working on programs to help me do that along with reading more detailed ship schematics. I went out to fix the life-support and emergency power because otherwise we would have died! If I broke it further, what harm would it have done to me? Furthermore, do you really think it a smart idea for me to mess around with the hyper-drive or reactor with no specialist knowledge? I've worked on droids and ground vehicles. Just enough knowledge to make me confident in my abilities. But not enough to be capable of repairing them. I am not touching those till I have more than a clue what I'm doing and proper tools."

Angry salvo delivered he leaned back over the terminal and proceeded to ignore her. Twitching hands skittering over the controls with renewed vigour. Muttering coming fast and furious as he worked on the code. She straightened to her full height and glared down at the back of his head, contempt of him clear in her words.

"So you are a selfish coward."

She waited briefly, but answer there came none. He wasn't going to respond, presumably because he had none.

Vindicated she returned to her spot and continued to exercise. Spinning to face him showed no overall change. A feeling of disgust filled her briefly before she tamped it down. He was a coward. Too terrified of the dark too start repairing his supposedly precious ship, hiding behind his mechanical gobbledegook.

Putting the seemingly spineless character out of her mind, she focused her mind and body into the routine. Pouring the excess energy in as she lost herself to the routine. Trying to work away her frustration as she contorted.

At the terminal, he remained hunched, furious muttering punching the air even as his fingers punched the keys. And so they remained for most of the day.

* * *

It was the evening now, they were almost at the scrap field. A mildly strained silence covered the room like a thin film of dust. Neither quite sure how to address the other. Barriss was still meditating on the coat. Ed still working on the terminal.

Abruptly finishing her meditations, she rose and moved over to him, taking note of extra tension in his shoulders and the increased focus he put on the program he was working on. A small tendril of pleasure snaking through her at his involuntary response to her.

The tableau remained for a while, silence growing.

Before long his fingers stilled, and he exhaled. Steepling his fingers he straightened his back although he kept his face turned away from her, awaiting her next action. She gave it with a level question. Intent on keeping her calm this time.

"Can I access more of the ships digital infrastructure?"

"I doubt it."

That was an unusual answer, although at least he seemed calm himself.

"Why?"

He shrugged indifferently.

"Unless you know how to code, you'd have great difficulty navigating it currently. The entire system is running off a command line interface, a backup installed in-case the main graphical user interface failed. Messing around in here, without knowing what you are doing, could cause a lot of issues.

Choosing to not take issue over his presumption of her lack of programming skills she decided to quizz him on the seemingly archaic nature of such a design.

"Why design a system like that? Unless you can program it, it's useless."

He huffed through his nose as he glanced up at her.

"Like I said backup, most of the programs were run by, or relied on the droid core."

"Droid Core?"

"Mmhmm. A highly advanced droid-brain designed to near-fully automate the entire ship. I was one of the team working on it. Unfortunately, the systems here can't find it anymore. Which indicates that either it has been destroyed, or all the physical links have been severed. Either way it's proved a massive hindrance to getting anything working. With it being offline all the working terminal's go into a sort of 'safe mode.' Not really sure how to fix it, the programming was half done anyway. I'm modifying what I have here to establish a control point in this terminal for most of the systems. I'm also drawing up new plans for programs to cover what the brain had been intended to cover. Like energy management."

His voice was cool and even all the way through, the only movement being a tilt of his head at the fire control pit.

"That station was made mostly redundant, all normal processes striped out and transferred, back-up control programs were going to be part of the next cycle of work."

The sheer idiocy of retrofitting a military ship while not minimising it's operational downtime in case of emergency. Especially when your only protection was the ship itself, seemed absurd to her. A disbelieving look was shot his way.

Seeing her look and translating it easily , he nodded grudgingly even as his fingers started skittering across the terminal..

"Yeah, bad idea in hindsight, but we were on a tight schedule. And the faculty was supposedly top secret."

Her estimation of this particular group's idiocy wasn't decreasing at that tidbit. Still she decided to push her luck. She wanted to know why they were automating the ship.

"Why make the ship purely a droid though?"

He glanced at her again, before looking over her shoulder at one of the embossed logo's. She shifted her own head back into his field of view

"To make the ship autonomous, reduce the area needed to sustain a crew, allow more combat systems and give it a greater range for extended patrol."

That actually made sense. But surely to go that far for an existing corvette. The conversion cost alone.

"That makes tactical sense especially for fighters, but a corvette, surely such a process would make the corvette very expensive, how is such a cost justifiable?"

That had gotten the most prominent response from him yet, a mild shudder ran through his shoulders, a whuff that could have been a laugh. Seeing her genuine curiosity his only remark was.

"You have no idea."

Before she could quiz him further on this puzzling statement. The terminal in front of them bleeped. They had arrived at the debris field. Cutting the conversation short as he seemingly forgot his previous amusement to focus on the sensors to start scanning for any usable components.

She scowled and moved away, to stare out the spiderwebbed glass at the slowly spinning debris. A stray thought crossing her mind of another more skilled tinkerer before she emptied it and focused on the vista before her.

Memories of the past would do her no good here.

* * *

Authour's note 3: Hello all.

I hope you are doing well.

And first off my apologies for not updating this story in so long, this chapter has been sat on my hard-drive for months now, almost complete, but I've lacked the energy to actually finish a chapter, either on New Horizons or any of the other half dozen stories I'm working on at present.

Details for a few of them are in my Bio if you are interested.

If any of you saw an update for this story yesterday, that was me giving the first two chapters a tidy up. I was very annoyed with myself at the state of them, and that ironically gave me the motivation to risk publishing the latest chapter. Seems months of isolation in quarantine is a great way to rob somebody of any impulse. Fortunately Ed and Bariss don't have that problem.

At present I have a rough outline of the next few chapters, but nothing is written up at I've got all sort of detailed plot arcs plotted out for later down the line involving various characters of Star Wars.

As of now, I'm aiming for a chapter every 2 weeks.

As for chapters 2,3,4 they will be edited soon.

I believe that's all.

Thank you for reading my story, if you liked please drop me a favourite or review. It really helps to get some feedback on my work


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